


Secrets and Lies

by TozaBoma



Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Bisexual John Constantine, Case Fic, F/M, Greece, I'm not kidding - actual balls, M/M, Magic, Pansexual Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Snakes, Wizards, balls, get a room, magick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 46,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TozaBoma/pseuds/TozaBoma
Summary: Lucifer has left LA for some me time in sunny Atlanta. Who should he bump into but John Constantine, just minding his own business tracking down a magical weapon of devastating power. With Lucifer now helping him, how wrong could it go? Case fic. Set after Constantine S01 & Lucifer S02E13. No spoilers for after that; I haven't seen it yet! Rated Teen & Up for naughty words and adult themes.





	1. Of All the Gin Joints in All the World

 

 

She slammed her foot down on the woman’s wrist. “Where is it, Marina?” she seethed.

Marina stopped struggling. Instead she blew blonde hair from her face, panted some breath back, set her teeth against the pain in her ribs, her arm. She gulped in air. “Screw. You.”

Her captor smiled, crouching slowly. Her right hand hovered over the pinned woman, her fingers reaching out and grabbing her by the jaw. “You know it doesn’t have to be like this. Just tell me where it is. I’ll destroy it - job done.”

“I’ve heard this line before,” Marina spat. “You want to keep it.”

“It’s too dangerous for any one person to have. Tell me where it is and I’ll do us all a favour,” she said. Marina struggled and wrenched under her foot and hand. She released her jaw and stood tall, lending more weight to the shoe currently crushing Marina’s wrist to the carpet. “You know how this has to end, don’t you?” she asked.

“So much for you wanting to - _ngghh_ \- wanting to help people!”

“Well if you won’t help me, I can’t have you warning whomever has it, can I?” she said.

“You’ll never find it,” Marina growled.

“Says you. A lack of ‘can-do attitude’ - that was always going to be your downfall, wasn’t it?” She took a step back. She put her hand in her pocket. It began to glow an angry purple.

“Oh no,” Marina said lamely. “Oh shit.”

The purple glow flashed brighter and brighter until the room was filled with painful white.

Marina screamed.

 

ooOoo

 

He smiled as he made his way down the street, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Someone bumped into him as he strode cheerfully down the busy thoroughfare. He grunted in protest and turned to look over his shoulder. Unable to identify his rude interruptor, he instead aimed for the crosswalk and waited.

He spotted a tall man in an expensive suit on the opposite side. Without looking, the handsome stranger strode out into the traffic as if completely oblivious to the danger. Cars split around him, honking horns, shouting obscenities. Still the man just walked on, before going straight for the smoking man still watching in bemusement.

“Come on - out of the way,” he said.

“Little bit of patience wouldn’t hurt you, mate,” he grumped back, nevertheless shifting to one side.

The taller man paused and peered down at the blonde man. “There _has_ to be a bar here somewhere. I just - I just can’t seem to find it.”

He raised his eyebrows at him, then lifted his arm to point. “Keep going - about three blocks. Turn right. There’s a place down there but mind the clientele. Not exactly your sort.”

The taller man’s jaw stuck out and he glared. “And how would _you_ know what my sort is?”

“Just giving you a friendly warning, pal. Drink there or don’t - I don’t care.”

The man paused, taking a step away from him. “Yes. I see. How rude of me,” he snapped. “Have a nice day, or whatever it is you humans say to each other.” He turned and strode off.

Shaking his head, the man with the cigarette turned back to see the frustrated cars were sorting themselves out and driving off. He pulled the cigarette free and dropped it, crushing it out with his black shoe. Suddenly the crosswalk was his friend and he and a handful of people made the most of the green cross signal.

He flicked his collar up against the afternoon warmth and kept walking. A few blocks went by, the sun glittering off the silvery buildings, the chrome surrounds of busy cars, the clean windows of big-name stores. Finally he came to a stop just between two buildings; the gap barely wide enough, he turned sideways and began to shuffle down it.

“Closed!”

He paused. Then he squinted further down the gap, before turning his head to look back out at the street. “Do what, mate?” he asked.

“Closed! Moved on!”

He backed up to be almost out of the narrow egress, then put his hand to the brickwork. “Says who?”

“Says the owner. Been gone two years now. So whatever you want - you ain’t going to get it.”

He huffed. “Look - I’ve come a long way for a certain something and I really need your help.”

“Not mine you don’t - he’s gone. I’m literally a Calling Card.”

He rolled his eyes and shuffled back out of the gap. “Bloody hell.” He turned his back to it, taking a packet of Silk Cut cigarettes from his pocket and fishing one out. He lit it, took a long drag, and surveyed the relatively busy to and fro of people past him. “So… he must have put quite a whammy on the bricks then - for you to still be here after two years, I mean.”

“Damn right. Grumpy old bastard trapped me here so he could move on.”

“I could… release you. For a price.”

“Let me guess what _that_ is.”

He grinned, then took another drag of his cigarette. “Just one item, that’s all. Tell me where it’s kept and I’ll release you.”

A long silence.

He looked out at the sea of people, at the warm, sunny afternoon, the breeze that ruffled at his blonde hair.

“Ok fine,” said the voice. “You get me out of here, then I tell you.”

“Bollocks to that, mate. You tell me and _then_ I get you out of there.”

“No deal.”

He enjoyed the rest of his cigarette, apparently completely unhurried. Then he squished out the remains under his right boot. “Well have fun being this alley’s disembodied voice for all eternity.” He cleared his throat, looked left and right, then put his foot out to go.

“Wait!” the voice cried. “Ok, ok. But you have to _promise_ me.”

He stepped back until he was leaning on the wall just by the gap. “Just tell me where it is.”

There was a long pause.

Finally: “It’s being looked after. Broad by the name of Marina - she curates, see? She’ll have it.”

“Brilliant. Where do I find this ‘Marina’?”

“Not far from here - an apartment complex on southwest third avenue.”

“Which apartment _?_ ” he tutted.

“You’ll know it when you see it - it’ll jump out at you.”

“Very funny mate. See you ‘round.” He pushed himself off the wall.

“Please! She keeps it under the corner table under the fish tank! It’s under the floorboards - four across, three in - that’s what I heard.”

He looked around, then up at the bright blue sky. He pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his white shirt pocket and shoved them on. And then his hands spread behind him as if giving baseball cues to imaginary fielders. His lips moved silently, something breezed at his back, his fingers rippled.

“All done,” he announced. “Now bugger off - and tell him he still owes me a hundred quid.”

The voice ruffled at his hair at it seemed to pass over his head. “Oh I will. Good luck with your item.”

And then it was gone.

He shook his head, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and turned to his left.

He began to walk.

 

ooOoo

 

The door swung open with force and a tall man stomped in. He stopped to survey the wooden tables, the half-empty room, the bar at the far end. He lifted his shoe to feel the floorboards slightly sticky, but he let go of the door and ventured over to the bar anyway.

“Well you look like you could do with a stiff one,” the bartender said. A large woman with a conspicuously clean bar towel in her hand, she looked him up and down before depositing a glass and flipping the cotton to lie over her shoulder. “What’ll it be, Handsome?”

“Pick the one drink you wouldn’t give your worst enemy and make mine a double,” he groused.

She blinked. “Whatever you say. But I’ll lay odds you can’t finish a double of _that_ drink.”

“Just give.”

“Ok,” she said, lifting her hands in surrender. She got to work behind the bar, picking up apparently random bottles and spritzing the contents in a chilled shaker. “What is it, your old lady?”

“Oh - the _oldest_ lady, thank you for asking,” he grumped, his face dark. “My mother. —And my brother, along with someone else I thought really cared for me. And Dad just throws all this in my way and assumes I’ll sort it all out for him - as if we’ve _ever_ been on good terms.”

“Sounds like this will drink go down real quick, then.” She shook the concoction a few times before lifting the small cap and pouring it into a chilled glass complete with ice. She put it on the counter in front of him.

He sipped it - and then looked at her in surprise. “But this is wonderful, darling - whatever is it?”

“A Meshuggener. Named it after my ex-husband.”

“Right,” he marvelled, peering at the glass. “You know, maybe this afternoon won’t be so bad.”

“Your folks - the ones you mentioned. Are they in town?”

“Oh Silver City no - they’re back in LA.”

“LA?” she asked, leaning a hand on the counter to watch him. “Then I’d say your afternoon’s going to be ok, honey.”

“Well it couldn’t get any worse.”

 

ooOoo

 

He got out of the cab, paying the driver and offering him a cheery send-off. He turned to appraise the entrance to the apartment complex, his hands going into his pockets to afford him a stroll down the drive.

He was round the long bend before the police officers walking to and fro made him pause. One of them looked up; realising people were now aware of him he simply pasted on a bright smile and waved at the officer.

“Afternoon, squire,” he called. “What’s all this, then?”

The officer met him halfway. “This is a crime scene, sir. I’m afraid you can’t come down here.”

“Oh. That’s a bit of an inconvenience - my friend lives here. I was hoping to have a bit of chat.”

“Can I ask your friend’s name, sir?”

“Marina,” he said. “Marina Morello.”

The officer looked at him for slightly longer than made either of them comfortable. “Can you come with me, sir?” he asked.

“Mind if I ask why?” He put his hands out in surrender. “If I’m not allowed in the place, I can come back tomorrow, like.”

“No - I really think you need to come with me, sir,” he said. “Please.”

“Is this likely to turn into an arrest situation?” he asked with a winning smile.

“I really don’t think so, sir.”

“Oh. Well in that case, lead on,” he shrugged.

The officer turned and walked back toward the apartments, finding a tall dark woman in a grey suit talking with two other officers.

“Ma’am,” the man called. “This gentleman’s here to see his friend - Miss Morello.”

The woman turned to appraise them both. “Detective Peony Nugent,” she said. “And you are?”

He looked her up and down, noticing the clean suit, the two-inch heels, the air of someone used to getting their own way. Even her dark hair was woven around a barrette to keep her glare unencumbered. “I’m just visiting a friend. Like I said to your uniform here, I can always come back if this is a bad time.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to come back,” she said. She nodded to the three officers and they disappeared quickly. “Are you a close friend of Miss Morello?”

“Not really. In fact we’ve never met.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Oh, she’s a friend of a friend. He’s left town, so I thought I’d call on her instead.”

She looked at her feet for a second. “Well I’m sorry to tell you that she’s deceased.”

“Marina?” he asked. “Marina Morello?”

“That’s her,” she nodded. “Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”

“Not at all - but like I said, I didn’t even know her. To be honest, I wasn’t sure which apartment was hers. I was hoping to catch someone here to ask them where I could find her.”

The detective nodded. “I understand.” She reached into her pocket and produced a small white card. “If you could call at the station soon and give a statement, we’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “Uh - don’t suppose I can ask what happened to her?”

Nugent shrugged. “At the moment it’s inconclusive. That’s all we can tell you.”

“Right. Well then. I’ll… uh… get going.” He turned away, putting his hands in his pockets.

Nugent watched him go, then pulled her phone from her pocket. She checked a few messages before going back into the apartment block.

 

ooOoo

 

“And he turns to me and says - get this - he says ‘your mother is the root of all evil’!” he cried.

“Wow. That’s a load on your shoulders. Now I’m of the opinion you shouldn’t do that to a child,” she tutted.

“I know, right?” he cried. He rapped the empty glass on the counter, affecting a piteous expression complete with the universe’s most adorable Puppy Eyes. “Can I have another, _dear_ lady?”

She smiled. “Well seeing as you’ve proved me wrong, I don’t see the harm in giving you one more.”

“ _Thank_ you,” he beamed. “Y’know, I never really _was_ a child. Child-like, at one time, I grant you - but never a _child_ , as such.”

“Your folks forced you to grow up quick, huh?” she asked, shaking ingredients.

“Exactly that, Flo, exactly that,” he nodded. He turned on his stool to look around the bar. “A bit quiet in here, isn’t it?”

“We got our regulars,” she smiled. “I like it quiet. Gives people time to reflect without all that modern noise and bustle, you know?”

“Good point, well made,” he nodded. “I think that may be just what I need - a complete departure from everything while I get my head round it all. No more police, no more helping, no more investigations, no more just putting up with people who don’t know who or what I really am. It’s time people just _understood_ what I am and got on with it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled. She poured the fresh cocktail over ice and slipped it toward him over the counter. “There you go, honey.”

“You are a lifesaver, Flo.” He picked it up and downed half of it.

She shook her head in amazement, taking her bar towel from her shoulder and wiping her hands on it. The door opened and she looked over. “Another newbie. Well ain’t it just my lucky day,” she smiled.

The newcomer wandered over and plonked himself on the next stool but one to the tall, dapper man currently contemplating the rest of his Meshuggener. “Afternoon,” he said to the place at large.

“Afternoon to you, sugar,” she nodded. “What can I get for you?”

“Pint, please. Anything imported.”

“All I got is bottles - domestic.”

“Bugger - anything whiskey-related?”

“The usual house whiskey - that do you?”

“No offence love, but it’ll have to,” he nodded. She turned away to fetch a glass. He threw his head back on his neck, tilting it all the way round as if to stretch it out. He felt at the back of it, his eyes closed.

“You know Flo, these get better the more of them you drink,” said a cheerful voice to his left.

The newcomer turned on his stool and looked over. “You,” he said. “The man from the crossing. Found your way here, then.”

“Oh, hello,” the drinker said with a wide smile. “I have to apologise. I was rude to you before and it was nothing you’d done.”

“That’s a first.”

“I came in here, spoke to Flo, had a few - and I’m feeling _much_ better about the world. Well, this one, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it, mate,” he nodded. Flo leant over and put a fresh coaster on the bar before depositing a glass on it, half full of something brown and tinkly. “Nice. Cheers, pet.” He picked it up.

“You know…” The man slid off his stool and moved up to the one next to him. “You smell like…” He leant closer to the man’s hair, looking over his head as he breathed deeply. “No. Can’t be.”

“Got a habit of sniffing strangers, have you? Were you a dog in a past life?”

“You smell like _there_. Only - that’s impossible. I mean…” He leant an elbow on the bar and stared into the man’s eyes as if raking his soul for gold dust. “You’ve been there, haven’t you? Several times, I’m guessing.” His voracious gaze went over the other man’s face at all angles, before he again found his eyes. “Who _are_ you? You’re not a demon, and you’re certainly not an angel. I would go with escaped soul, but you really don’t look it.”

The man turned right round on his stool to look him in the eye. “Demons and angels ain’t real,” he said with a game smile.

He smiled back. “Oh I rather think you’re just saying that the benefit of Flo, here.”

“Flo, love?” the man said, without looking away. “Get Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome another drink, would you? Sounds like he needs it.”

“Well Hell, now I gotta go down to the cellar for more gin,” she said. “You boys wait here for me, you hear?”

“Certainly Flo,” the taller man grinned. He barely waited until she had disappeared through a side door. “Go on, you can tell me,” he oiled. “Who are you?” His eyes flicked over him, taking in the hem of his shabby trenchcoat just south of swirling round where his knees normally stood. His blonde hair and white shirt caught the lights from high above, but his dark, unkempt tie told tales of needing more than just a drink.

“I’m just a visitor, mate. Sounds like you’re not from around here neither.”

“No, really,” he said, leaning closer than was polite. He fixed his gaze on his. “Tell me… what are you really here for? Hmm? What do you really, _really_ want?” He paused. “What’s your deepest, _darkest_ desire?”

The man’s smile died and was reincarnated as a worried frown. “What are you?” he urged, trying to keep his voice down. “Whatever creature you are, whatever you think you’re here for - leave these people out of it. Tell me what you want and maybe we can sort something out that doesn’t involve anyone dying.”

The man drew back, surprised. “Oh. Well that just makes you _much_ more interesting, doesn’t it?” He lifted his right hand, offering it to the other man. “The name’s Morningstar. _Lucifer_ Morningstar. You may have heard of me.”

He looked down at his hand in disbelief. “You what?”

“And you are?” Lucifer asked politely. “Come on, I’m _dying_ to know. Not many people can refuse my special questions.”

“You’re Lucifer? _The_ Lucifer?” he spluttered. He slid off his stool. “Yeah - um - got to go.” He pulled money from his pocket to slap it on the bar.

“Oh now don’t be like that,” Lucifer said. “I’m on holiday. Believe me - I plan to be the laziest little devil anyone’s ever heard of. At least for the next few weeks. Or months. Or… I don’t really know, to be honest.” His head tilted and he appraised the ceiling.

The other man stared. “Lucifer bloody Morningstar - on holiday? Last I heard you were out LA way pretending to own a club. How many souls did that little venture eat up?” he snapped.

“Souls?” Lucifer asked, surprised. “Not one. Well, maybe one or two who really needed a good hiding. But it’s just a club - really, I’m more into the ‘do as you want’ scene since I left my day job.” He frowned, then repaired his smile to look over at the shabby man again. “But enough about me - who are you?”

He backed up one. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh come on - you have me interested now,” he grinned. “I mean under all that swagger and that filthy coat, I’m sure there’s someone worth getting to know.”

“Nope. Sorry.” He turned to go.

Lucifer wagged a finger at him. “You know, now I think about it… something about you rings a bell. I’m sure someone’s told me about a man in a trenchcoat…” He tutted. “If I could just remember who it was.”

“A lot of trenchcoats in the city,” he said over his shoulder.

“No no no… Let me think… A trenchcoat - only it was longer. Blonde hair, smelt of cigarettes and gin, he said… Face like a younger, more attractive version of Sting…”

He kept walking toward the exit. “Be seein’ you.”

Lucifer snapped his fingers. “Ah _hah!_ I know you!”

“Don’t,” he said under his breath as he walked.

“Now I remember! It was the First, I think - he was banging on about something to do with a soul he was due, and went to collect and—”

“Don’t,” he breathed.

“It’s _you!_ ” Lucifer grinned. He leapt to his feet. “Oh I’ve _waited_ for this!” He straightened his suit jacket with gusto before throwing his hands out in some kind of amazed ‘ta-dah!’. “John _bloody_ Constantine, as you live and breathe!”

The man came to a stop. He closed his eyes. “Bollocks,” he breathed.

 

 


	2. Making Work for Idle Hands

 

 

John turned and looked back at the man leaning on the bar like he owned the place. “So what now?” he asked. “Can we let all these people here leave quietly?”

Lucifer looked around, confused. “Well if they want, I suppose. Why would they want to leave?”

“What have you done to them?”

Lucifer checked behind himself, then turned back to John. “Me? Done what? To whom?”

John’s face turned exasperated. “These people in here. What are your plans for them? Why are you _here_ , and not down _there?_ ”

“Oh!” Lucifer crowed in dawning realisation. “You think I’m here for _people_.” He shook his head. “I’m here to become as inebriated as possible, my new blonde friend. It’s a bit difficult on human alcohol, but no-one likes a quitter, eh?”

John walked back up to him. He looked him up and down, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and tilted his head. His eyes narrowed. “Why here?”

“That is a long, sad story that nobody wants to hear,” Lucifer sighed, sitting back on his stool.

John watched him pick up his drink and sip at it morosely. He scrubbed at the back of his head for a second. “You’re just… drinking?”

“Well this is a _bar_ ,” Lucifer said. “What are _you_ here for?”

“I was trying to track down a trinket or two but it seems the owner’s carked it. Which is very inconsiderate, given the timing,” John said slowly. Keeping a wary eye on the Devil, he perched himself back on his stool. “So I’m supposed to believe you’re just here for a holiday? To drink?”

“How much do you know about me, John?”

“Hearsay. Gossip. You know what demons are like when they’re shitting themselves because they think I’m sending them back to Hell.”

“Oh do tell - what do they say about me?” Lucifer asked with a wide smile.

John shook his head slightly. “Mercurial. Harsh. Rules are rules - but you don’t lie.”

Lucifer considered for a moment. “Well I suppose I asked for that, given your sources.”

“Technically, you _did_ just ask for that.”

“Touché,” Lucifer said with a slight dip of his head.

John pursed his lips for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m sat here talking to _the_ Lucifer and there’s no fire or wrath involved.”

“Wrath is Dad’s bag - all I want is the opportunity to do what I want, when I want. Is that so bad?”

John eyed him. “Depends on what you want to do.”

“Oh _relax_ John - there’s nothing biblical or _evil_ going on. Unless you count the prices poor Flo has to pay for her stock.”

As if by divine intervention, Flo appeared through the side door with a bottle under each arm. She closed it behind her with her foot then made her way back behind the bar counter. “So another, Handsome?” she asked.

“Oh yes _please_ ,” Lucifer grinned. She smiled and got to work on another cocktail.

John, busy studying the face of the Devil and his rather too casual demeanour, refused to let the sounds of her work interrupt him. “So… you and the First. Mates, are you?” he asked lightly.

Lucifer snorted in disgust. “Hardly. _So_ glad I packed all that in and came up here.” He looked at John suddenly. “Do you know, there are humans who think they can get away with all _kinds_ of transgressions up here? I mean, I thought demons were a bit sly, but they’ve got nothing on humans, have they?”

“Not a thing,” John said, putting a hand out for his drink. “Planning on staying up here, are you?”

“Absolutely,” Lucifer said. “Mum’s on the warpath, my brother’s grown a fresh stick up his arse, and Chloe—. Well.” He picked up his drink and emptied it. “I needed a break. From humans.”

“So you came to Atlanta and went straight to a bar. With humans in it.”

Lucifer smiled suddenly. “Yes, I did.” He fixed John with a determined look. “So tell me, John - what was it like getting one over on the First of the Fallen? And tell me _everything_ \- the smug little wanker _totally_ deserved it.”

 

ooOoo

 

Detective Nugent walked into the coroner’s office, her hands in her trouser pockets. “Hey, Walter. Anything?”

The older man looked up from the computer keyboard that had been lovingly wrapped in plastic to avoid spillages of the human bodily kind affecting its inner workings. “Nugent. Lots, actually.” He got up and went to a clipboard lying on top of a white sheet. “Victim was Marina Morello. 32 years old, non-smoker, enjoyed a drink now and again if her liver is anything to go by.” He held the clipboard out.

Nugent went around the sheeted individual and took it from him. “Cause of death… cellular death?” She looked up at him. “What is that?”

The man, grey of hair and of face, folded his arms. “Something caused a massive burst of unidentified radiation. It was strong enough to kill off most of the cells in her body at the same time. Hence, cellular death. Interestingly, no-one found anything capable of delivering such a burst - much less of any kind of radiation - in her entire flat. Nothing else was affected, and by that I mean her TV still worked and the hard drive of her laptop was not erased.”

“What if the killer set it off on a timer, then took it with him after he was sure she was dead?” she asked.

“I’m afraid that’s your department. I do anatomy, not physics. I’ve sent some tissue samples off to be analysed - if they can work out what type of radiation it was, maybe someone _else_ I contact can then work out what kind of device you’re looking for.”

She read to the bottom of the front sheet. “So you reckon she died instantly?”

“From the state her body was in at the point of total cell collapse, I’m going to say yes,” he said. “But that’s my own personal opinion. I’ve never seen this kind of death before - you may want to kick it higher to see if anyone else wants to chip in.”

Nugent nodded slowly. “I might. Thanks, Walter. Professional and ready as always,” she said with a wink.

“Well I try to justify my government pay-check whenever I can.”

She smiled. “Can I take this?”

“Of course. Good luck.”

“I think I’ll need it.” She nodded to him and went to the door, pushing it open and striding out of the door. Her black heels took her down the corridor and then through a door on the left. “Afternoon,” she announced.

Three people looked up from their work benches. The first, a petite woman with all of her dark hair scraped into a high bun on top of her head, pulled off a pair of safety glasses. “Detective,” she said.

Nugent looked from her to the other two, then back again. “Anything for me, Tanya?”

“We found a tonne of stuff in her apartment, yeah. Anything suspicious is here, arranged alphabetically by use, seeing as we can’t name half of it.” Tanya Lee turned and indicated a row of plastic storage bins without lids, sitting smugly on the table running around the edge of the room.

Nugent frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t name it?”

Tanya looked at the other two officers. “Well we tried. But… a lot of this stuff looks like it’s come out of the props bin of _Gremlins_ or something.” She walked to a bin and pulled out a small, black item wrapped in cloth. “I mean, take a look at this.” She unwrapped it carefully, her bright blue surgical gloves jarring with the eye-popping red of the uncovered object. “It’s like an egg, but it’s got writing on it. Well, we’re guessing it’s writing but we can’t read it but it seems to be based on some kind of system.”

Nugent walked over and peered down at it. “What do you think it’s for?”

“Honestly,” said another officer, coming forward. “We have it in the ‘could be ornamental, could be recording history’ bin,” she said.

“Hmm.” Nugent stood back. “Is there any one thing you think is suspicious?” She looked at all three of them and their identical ‘fish at feeding time’ look. “Ok, _more_ suspicious than the rest of this stuff?”

“Not really,” the third officer said. He came forward and pulled off his safety glasses. “This is really weird stuff. It wouldn’t surprise me if all this _was_ just movie props.”

“Fine,” Nugent sighed. “Keep doing… whatever it is you’re doing.” She turned to leave but paused at the door. “If you find anything that looks like it may have given off a huge surge of radiation recently, let me know.”

“Radiation?” Tanya blurted.

Nugent nodded. And then she walked out.

 

ooOoo

 

“So that was that, really,” John shrugged. He lifted his glass.

Lucifer gasped in amused surprise. “No shit?”

“I shit you not,” John said with a grin, taking a long draw on his whiskey.

“So no cancer since? Not even a little bit?” Lucifer asked.

“Nope,” John said with satisfaction.

“Well, you’re just brains _and_ looks, aren’t you, you - you - conniving little… human!” Lucifer laughed.

“Whatever works, right?”

“I have to warn you - the last I heard the First of the Fallen was _supremely_ pissed off with you, John,” Lucifer said. “Which kind of endears you to me. After all, it’s not everyone who can grind his gears like that and still live.”

“I’m more worried why you’re up here, to be honest,” John said. “All that torture and burning get to you, eh?”

Lucifer’s smile fell. John looked at his glass quickly. But the Devil repaired his mood enough for his face to imply a tiny gesture of mirth. “It wasn’t where I wanted to be. Or deserved to be. I’m sure you can relate.”

John looked at him side-on for a long moment. “Maybe.”

“So what brings _you_ to sunny Atlanta?” Lucifer asked.

“A few things. Dark times, desperate measures… the usual.”

“You mean Mondays.”

John smiled. “Something like that.” He finished his drink. “You know, I can’t help feeling that as soon as I turn around, you’re going to revert to the Lucifer that everyone talks about. And yet…”

“And yet you can’t work out why I’m so personable,” he said. “I get that a lot. It’s weird - you humans really do take things on faith way more than you realise.”

“Like what?”

“Well like Dad having his little prophets report the things I did but skewed to their side of the story - of course. And humans have believed it and perpetuated it for a couple of thousand years. And yet if you tell them that a politician has been corrupt, closed-minded and dangerously stupid for the last 30 years, they wail about needing proof.”

Again, John smiled. “We are an odd bunch, I’ll give you that.”

“But you are free - most of you. That’s all I wanted. Up here… I can literally do whatever I want. And it’s surprising how many humans just go along with what I want. Really, it’s refreshing,” he grinned.

John looked at his watch. “Well it’s been… interesting, Lucifer. I mean, sitting here with the Adversary, the Prince of the Power of the Air, Lord of Hell and all that - it’s been an eye-opener. But I do have things to be getting on with. So…” He stood up, pulling money from his pocket and leaving it on the counter. “Have a nice -uh - life, and don’t skin anyone. I’ll see you around, I expect.”

Lucifer’s smile faded. “You’re just going to go?”

“That’s what normally happens after you say goodbye to someone.”

Lucifer’s face took on a monumental pout. “But you’re the only person I’ve spoken to in… a few hundred years - that actually knew who I was and didn’t care.”

John shrugged. “Merry Christmas. I’m off to find what I need.”

Lucifer slapped money on the bar and then followed him toward the door. “John! Wait! Maybe there’s another bar around here.”

“Not in this part. Coupla nice ones in the actual city bit, though.” He pulled the exit open and strode through.

Lucifer caught the door from closing, then slipped out to trail after him. “Ok, you drive a hard bargain. Agreed.”

John stopped and turned to look him up and down. “What?”

“I’ll help you find this thing you’re after and you’ll help me find a better bar with much more alcohol in it.”

John sighed, pulling his packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He opened the lid. “Look, Lucifer—”

“Ooh, ta very much,” he said delightedly, fishing in the packet for a cigarette and pulling it out. He went through his own pockets for a lighter, before he simply snapped his fingers to produce a thin, bright yellow flame from his thumb. He used it to light the Silk Cut before it went out.

John just gawped. “Really,” he accused.

“What?”

“In public.”

“What?”

“With all these people watching.”

“ _What?_ ” Lucifer urged. “Honestly, I’ve been telling people left, right and centre who I am for the last… ooh, two years? And not one of them has actually taken me seriously. Well, apart from one. But I kind of had to show her first.”

John rolled his eyes. “Why do I need you to help me find this thing?”

“Because I’m good,” he grinned. “I’ve been helping the LAPD for a while and to be honest, I really don’t know what they’d do without me.”

John lit his own cigarette, before shaking his head. “And all you want in return is a good bar?”

“Yes.”

John eyed him for a long moment.

“I don’t lie, John,” Lucifer grumped. “If there’s one thing you should already know about me, it’s _that_. At least Dad’s popular press got _that_ right.”

John took another drag on his cigarette. “Fine.” He pointed at his face, his Silk Cut wedged between his fingers. “But you threaten or in fact harm any one of these humans and I’ll come for you.”

“Ooh,” Lucifer oozed with a wicked grin. “Is that a promise?”

John looked at him - just looked. Then he turned away. He began to walk off.

“You’ve gone all red, John,” Lucifer called after him. He grinned, stuck the Silk Cut in his mouth, and followed the shorter man down the street.

 

ooOoo

 

She stalked up the driveway to the apartment block, finding the main door police-free and seeming pretty happy about it. Her finger slid down the buttons for the individual apartments until it stopped of its own accord. She pulled it back, thought for a moment, and then closed her eyes.

Muttering to herself while arching her fingers over the panel of buttons resulted in the main door suddenly unlocking itself and springing open an inch. Her eyes opened and she grinned and pulled it wide, stepping through to find herself in the lobby. She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and turned to the stairs.

Getting to the correct floor, she strode along the corridor until she came upon the apartment door. It was draped in so much POLICE - DO NOT CROSS tape she wondered which side the door opened. However, a quick muttered spell and a wave of her hand made most of it simply peel to one side and the doorknob turn.

She looked left and right, put her hand on the doorknob, and went in. Her eyes surveyed the entire apartment before she slipped off her suit jacket. Folding the shoulders carefully into each other, she laid it on the back of the couch. She rolled up white silk sleeves and released the top button on her finely-tailored waistcoat. Then she went through the open front room, picking up cushions, opening drawers, sliding pictures and paintings to one side, lifting corners of carpets, and even going through the laundry basket. Eventually she stood back and folded her arms.

“Damn,” she sighed.

She thought for a long moment, and then went into the bedroom. She gave it a very thorough search but ended up flumping down to sit on the unmade bed, her hands by her sides.

Then she stood, closed her eyes, and lifted her arms out straight. Her palms angled out and she muttered to herself for over a minute.

Her right eye popped open. “ _Damn_ , you’re good,” she huffed. “Where else _could_ you have hidden it?” she asked herself. Then she let her arms drop. “Work. It’s at your work.”

She snatched up her jacket and left the apartment quickly, repaired the DO NOT CROSS tape and then bounced down the stairs. By the time she got to the bottom she was more than ready to sweep the main door to one side and barrel out toward the parking lot.

She stopped by a fairly nondescript sedan in a vague light brown colour, opening it up and sparing no time pulling out of the car park.

A taxi cab pulled into the parking lot just as she joined the main road; it drifted round and stopped as close to the front of the apartment block as physically possible.

The rear doors opened and two men got out. Lucifer tilted his head through the window to speak to the driver. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said, winked, and then stood back. He tapped the roof of the car and it started off.

Lucifer did up the single button to his suit jacket before looking across what was now a gap. John was looking back at him with a contemplative look the Devil had not seen in a while.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

John blinked. “Still trying to figure you out, mate,” he said. Then he turned and began to cross the grass to the apartment block behind.

Lucifer caught him up, his hands going into his trouser pockets. “So what _are_ we looking for?”

“A MacGuffin,” John grumped.

“Right. Now we’re getting somewhere,” Lucifer nodded. “What does it do?”

“It makes me do just about anything to get my hands on it. Now be quiet whilst I open this door.”

Lucifer stopped as John paused in front of the main door to the apartments. He produced two small pieces of wire and got to work.

Lucifer turned around and watched the traffic on the far road. He checked his obscenely expensive watch. He sniffed and looked up at the sun. Eventually he turned back to see what John was doing. “Need some help?” he asked.

John tutted and turned to him, holding out the wires. “Go on then - amaze me.”

Lucifer did not move, other than to put a hand out and wrench on the large metal handle to the door. The lock gave a terrible cracking sound and the door swung open. “That do it for you?” he smiled.

John rolled his eyes and went in. The two of them made their way up the stairs to the third floor, finding her door easily enough.

Lucifer went straight to it and peered at the tape. “Oh dear.”

“It’s just for decoration,” John said, producing a flick knife and slicing a neat line up through all of it. He tried the door handle, found it unlocked, and glanced at Lucifer in a warning before he pushed himself through.

He stood in the front room, looking around and folding his knife closed. “Well, well, well.”

Lucifer ducked in after him. “Oh dear oh _dear_ ,” he said, turning on the spot. “Someone got here first, then. This place looks worse than a Saturday morning at Lux.”

They took in the shambles of strewn belongings, cushions, coasters, books, and assorted items. Lucifer wandered off as John crouched and rubbed a hand over his chin. Then he grinned. “Fish tank,” he realised. He got up and crossed to the corner table of the room, bending to look at the single fish bobbing around inside the foot-square glass. He looked around, found a small pot of fish flakes, and opened the lid on the tank. He was just tapping his finger against the tube of food to cause the flakes to rain down into the water as Lucifer appeared.

“Well this place, as Detective Douche would say, is a bust,” he announced. He crossed to the window to look out over the front grass area. “No signs of anything helpful, no secret clues… I have no idea what’s happening.”

John smiled. “Welcome to my world.” He stopped with the fish food and put it down, instead picking up the table complete with tank and shifting it about two feet to his left. He crouched and ran a hand over the wooden boards underneath, finding a curiously clean edge to two particular brown slabs. He smiled and pulled his knife out again, flicking it open and sliding it down between the boards.

“What have you found?” Lucifer asked.

“Hopefully, Marina’s hiding place.”

Lucifer crossed the room to watch him lever a board up. He crouched next to him and helped him remove the entire floorboard, the Devil holding onto it in excitement as John put his knife away and instead produced a small flashlight. He turned it on and shone it down into the gap.

“Well? Anything?” Lucifer asked eagerly.

John’s face fell. “Bollocks.”

“Really? Down there? What on Earth did she keep those for?” Lucifer asked, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

John didn’t even spare him a glance. “There’s nothing here.”

“Oh.” He looked at the floorboard in his hands, then offered it to John. He took it and slapped it back down into place. They stood and Lucifer sniffed. “So… where next?”

“I thought you helped the LAPD all the time?” John asked. “What do _you_ think we should do next?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Are you deaf?”

“No, it’s just… Normally I decide what to do and everyone else ignores me.”

“Well I’m asking you - where to?” John asked. “Because I have no idea where Marina stashed it, no idea who might have taken it, and no idea where to look next. Give me a suggestion.”

Lucifer smiled. “Well that’s simple - whoever killed her wanted the MacGuffin, right? So we find whoever it was and get it that way.”

“Not so simple - we have nowhere to start guessing who it was that killed her. And if they _did_ get it from Marina, they won’t hang around. They could have found it, killed her, and left the state - or the country - yesterday. Tracking a killer is a waste of time - we just need the artefact.”

“But that means the killer will get away with killing poor Marina here,” Lucifer said slowly.

John made a show of searching his pockets. “Not one.”

“What?”

“I’m all out of shits to give, mate.” He looked at him. “Now how do we find this MacGuffin?”

Lucifer’s face hardened. Then he turned in a slow circle, looking around as he let things whizz through his brain. “Police.”

“What?”

“The police - they’ll have an investigation going. Why don’t we ask them what they’ve got so far?”

“Are you cracked?” John asked. “They’re going to haul us in for questioning because we knew Marina, then demand to know why we were at her place today, and _then_ tell us we can’t interfere with an investigation. And _that’s_ when we try to get out of the cop-shop without getting arrested.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Let me handle it.”

“I’m going to have to - I’ve already met the bird in charge and I’m pretty sure she’d remember me. So no, I’m not going anywhere near the police.”

“Your loss,” Lucifer shrugged. “Trust me, we’ll get down there, I’ll speak to the woman in charge, and have everything they know about this case in under an hour.”

“Oh you will, will you?” John asked with an amused eyebrow-raise.

“Yes, I will. Or my name’s not Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Well, _technically_ , it’s Sa—.”

“Don’t,” he said, with the smile of a shark who sensed blood in the water. “Please. Or I may have to call you ‘Con Job’. That _is_ what they still call you in the fifth circle of Hell, isn’t it?”

John glared for a moment. Then he inclined his head. “Fair enough.”

Lucifer strode to the door. “Well then. Let’s go speak to the nice lady detective, shall we?”

John eyed him. Eventually he cast his gaze once more around the room in vain hope, then followed the fallen celestial being out of the apartment.

 


	3. Such Sweet Sorrow

 

 

Detective Nugent clicked her pen aimlessly as she read the report for the fourth time. She sat back in her chair, rolled her head round on her neck to free a little tension, and then sat up straight again.

“Nugent?” called a voice.

She looked up. “It’s ‘Detective’,” she said, getting to her feet. “Do you have something for me?”

A uniformed man crossed the open office of the police station to approach her. “Sorry, Detective. There’s a man asking for you - says he wants to talk to you about yesterday’s weird murder in that apartment block down southwest third avenue.”

“Does he have an accent and a trenchcoat?” she asked.

“Well he does got an accent - but no coat, not that I saw,” he shrugged.

“Fine. Let’s go.” She waved to the space behind him and he nodded, walking away. She went round to the front desk.

Nugent looked at the dashing man leaning a nonchalant elbow on the booking desk itself. “Ah, you must be in charge around here - it’s about time I got to speak to someone who knows what’s going on. Afternoon, love.”

She blinked. “I’m in charge of certain cases, yes.”

“Thought so - it’s the shoes,” he said with an entire apartment complex of shiny white teeth.

She shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry?”

“Jimmy Choo if I’m not mistaken and I know I’m not,” he winked. “Very nice. I must say, you do put together a very nice ensemble,” he said, his hands going out as if to wipe a new shape of Coke bottle into the air between them. “Very ‘madam president’ - don’t you think?” he asked the man on the booking desk.

He was watching Lucifer with something of an adoring yet far away look. “Yeah,” he managed.

“Anyway, here’s what I can do for you,” Lucifer said, clapping his hands together and squeezing them. “I can listen to you tell me all about this case of yours, and afterwards, I’ll treat you to something no-one else has experienced in over two thousand years.”

Nugent folded her arms slowly. “Who _are_ you?”

“Oh, where _are_ my manners,” he said, closing the gap between them. “Lucifer. Morningstar. At your service.” He put his hand out.

She shook it firmly, studying his face as if trying to commit it to memory. “Right. And you’re here to help?”

“I think I just said that, darling,” he smiled. Their hands dropped but their eyes were still glued to each other. “How about it?”

“Th-there’s an interview room free,” she managed against a suddenly dry throat.

“Ooh, you like the risk of an audience, eh? Cheeky,” he oiled, waving a hand out. “Lead the way, then.” She turned and walked off. Lucifer looked back at the booking officer. “Hold all her calls, will you?”

“F-for a favour,” the young man stammered.

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Bit of backbone - I like it. Go on then, what do you want?”

“The two thousand year thing,” he said.

Lucifer grinned. His eyes went down the slight man, then back up. “Well, we’ll need a tiny variation here or there but it’s definitely possible. I’ll come back for you,” he said.

It all was the officer could do to nod.

Lucifer pulled his jacket straight and went down the corridor after Detective Nugent.

 

ooOoo

 

John, leaning against the fire exit at the rear of the building, felt it bump hard into his back. It knocked the Silk Cut from his mouth as he turned toward it.

Lucifer emerged from the new entrance. “Here we go - complete access to all of poor Marina’s personal belongings, as well as a quick chat with any of the forensics people,” he smiled.

John pretended talking with the Devil out the back of a police station was completely normal. “How did you arrange that?”

Lucifer slid a hand down his suit jacket. “Detective Nugent is very flexible. A word here, a deal there - simple, really.”

John grinned. “Your shirt’s on inside out.”

Lucifer looked down abruptly. “Ah.”

John shook his head even as he chuckled. “Whatever. Let’s go look at some personal effects, then. Maybe what I’m after is in there.”

“You go first - don’t wait for me,” Lucifer said, backing up so John could get in the entrance.

“Why? Where are you going?”

Lucifer watched him walk in and then let the door shut behind them. “Favour for a desk officer. It won’t take long.”

John looked at him - just looked. Then he straightened his shoulders and walked off.

“I’ll meet you in there,” Lucifer called. He sniffed and turned left.

 

ooOoo

 

John pushed open the door marked ‘Evidence’. He stopped as three people turned to look at him. “Oh. Hello,” he said. His hands went into his pockets. “You’re the forensics people, right?”

A women to his left lifted her bright blue gloves. “What gave it away?”

John smiled, looking round the room. The other two officers appeared to ignore him, concentrating instead on sorting small items into trays with different labels on them. “Detective Nugent - she’s given me permission to look through all the personal effects you picked up from the apartment of one Marina Morello.”

“Why would she do that?” the woman asked.

“It’s like this, uh… sorry love, what’s your name?”

She smiled brightly. “Tanya - Tanya Lee.”

“Tanya. Lovely. Anyway, it’s like this - she doesn’t really know what all them pieces are, and I volunteered to take a look at them for her and see if I can’t label a few. —If that’s ok with you, an’ all. I mean, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work here.”

Tanya shook her head. “It’s fine. To be honest, we’re nearly done for the day.”

“Well isn’t that a shame,” John said with a wide smile.

She blushed, glancing down at her gloves. “It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” another of the officers grunted. “Back-breaking, too.”

“Maybe it’s coffee time,” John said innocently.

“I heard _that_ ,” the third officer said. She stood back and began to peel off her gloves. “I am so done with this. Let’s go.”

Tanya watched them discard their gloves and pick up their personal rucksacks, waving to her and walking out of the room. She turned back to look at John.

“So then… you’re off?” he asked.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than stay here well after your shift and watch me poke through some off stuff,” he said.

“Well… I could stay and help. If you like,” she added quietly.

“Any other day of the week, I really _would_ like,” he said. “But the day I’m picking through a deceased friend’s stuff… Not so much.”

“Oh I’m so sorry - I had no idea you knew the victim.”

“That’s ok, love. You weren’t to know.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. She snapped off her last glove and went for her belongings by the door. “Only… I’ll leave you this,” she added hastily, turning and pressing a card into his hand.

John looked down at it, then raised it to see it more clearly under the artificial lights. “Tanya Lee, Forensic Processing.” His eyes went over the cell phone number underneath. He smiled and dropped it into his pocket. His hand withdrew with another white card. “Only fair I give you mine, eh?”

She reached out and took his card. Then she smiled and swirled out of the door.

He shook his head turned to the trays before wandering round to the far wall. He picked up a clipboard and started reading through the names, before he found what he was looking for. “Morello, Marina,” he muttered. “Locker forty-two J.” He tossed the clipboard back to the table and went instead through some tall plastic strips. They appeared to separate the rest of the room from another, that housed banks of lockers barely two feet wide each. A few seconds of interrogating the numbers and he was moving round to the correct locker. He pushed at the door and it clicked, before promptly springing open a tiny way.

He reached in and began to take out plastic bags with spaces for labels on. He noticed every one of them had question marks in the name section. He smiled, turning to his right to a nearby metal counter, beginning to spread the bags out.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucifer opened the door cautiously, poking his head round. “Hello?”

“In here,” John called.

Lucifer went in and round the table full of trays, finding himself pushing through some plastic flaps. He caught sight of John. “There you are,” he said, crossing the room to the long counter. He put his hands in his pockets. “Well that officer was an effort,” he said, blowing out a sigh. “Don’t say I never do anything for you. Found anything yet?”

“Normally I stop looking when I’ve found it,” John said, pre-occupied.

“Ah yes,” Lucifer allowed. He went to the far right, bending over to peer into exposed bags. “My, my, my,” he said, surprised. “A Varian Din flute. Haven’t seen one of those in… millennia.” He reached out and picked up the bag. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“No,” John said, clearly more interested in the contents of the bag in front of him.

“Ok then,” Lucifer said. He put the bag down and went to the next one. “Oh look at _this_ \- a worshipping bowl, at least a thousand years old. Maybe… Middle Eastern?” He sniffed at the bag, then glanced at John. “Is _this_ it?”

“Nope.”

He plonked it down and went to the next one. “How about a… a Sumerian summoning bowl?”

“Nope.”

“A kenhanna ritual knife?”

“No.”

“A rather tiny vial of angel grace?”

“Nope.”

“A shrunken moose head?”

“No.”

“A preserved North American squirrel tail?”

“No.”

“An original witch’s divination rod?”

“Nope.”

He huffed and stood back. “Until you tell me what exactly it is we’re looking for, I can’t help you.”

John turned, a bag still raised for his inspection. “I’d tell you what it was if I trusted you; I don’t so I won’t.”

“Rude,” Lucifer marvelled. “I’m helping, aren’t I?”

“Helping in the sense that you’ll let me find this item for you, so you can take it off me?”

“If I don’t even know what it is - why would I plan to take it from you?” Lucifer protested, his voice getting higher in pitch. “And anyway, I wouldn’t take it from you unless it was something I didn’t think humans should have.”

John’s eyebrows went for his fringe in a big way. “Really,” he said flatly.

“Or if it was really, _really_ shiny,” Lucifer admitted quietly.

John nodded in vindication and turned back to his bag. “So you stand there while I see if it’s here.”

“After all I’ve done for you,” he said slowly. “How many other people do you know who could get a detective to give you complete unfettered access to this entire _authorised personnel only_ area?” he demanded. “And who else would understand and recognise what it is you say you’re looking for?”

“If you’re not happy with this arrangement, you know where the door is,” John shrugged.

“You ingrate,” Lucifer huffed. “This simply isn’t fair. You know I could just _get_ you to tell me.”

“Yeah - because that worked so well for you last time.”

Lucifer’s eyes went to the ceiling for a long few seconds. “Ok, fine,” he huffed. “This week has been really quite awful by anyone’s definition and you, my needs-scrubbing-with-a-wire-brush-and-some-bleach friend, are the very last straw. If you don’t tell me what you’re looking for, I can’t help you.”

“Ok,” John shrugged.

“You _know_ I can help you.”

“Understood.” He dropped one bag and went for another. “But I don’t trust you.”

“That… actually _hurts_ , John.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Lucifer’s lips thinned into an angry line. “Fine. Do your best by yourself, human.”

“Don’t let the door bang your arse on the way out.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about _banging_ , John. Something tells me it’s the _last_ thing _you_ have to worry about.” He stalked toward the door. “Good luck with your life, and your little treasure hunt. Try to do something responsible with the MacGuffin, won’t you?” He pushed through the plastic strips and was gone.

John’s eyes went to the wall opposite. He held his breath, listening. Finally, after the door had closed some way behind him and no other noise had interrupted him, he sagged and let out the straining breath. He shook his head, concentrated on his hands, and got to work.

 

ooOoo

 

She walked out of the office block, cursing under her breath in a way that made the air turn blue and then choke and die. Tiny cerulean pebbles dropped from the very air behind her as she unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat.

She huffed and closed the door, pushing her head back into the rest and bouncing it a few times. “Think, think, think - if it’s not at her home, and she didn’t hide it at work… where else could she have hidden it?”

She fished her smartphone out of her pocket and jabbed her thumb at the circles of buttons on-screen. She raised it to her ear and waited.

“Yes, hello. My name is Alina Harvey-Pendry. Yes, from the Boca Harvey-Pendries. Hmm. Oh, charmed, I’m sure,” she smiled. “Well the reason I’m calling is I’ve heard something very valuable may be on the market and I was wondering if you’d added it to your catalogue for auction.” She paused, listening. “I see. Would you be a darling and send me the brochures for any upcoming auctions? Oh of course, yes. Yes. You’ll find it under my membership. Thank you so much - you’ve been so helpful. Yes. Ciao.” She cancelled the call with her thumb, then went straight to her mail account on the phone. She tapped and waited. “Come on, come on, you obsequious little shit,” she muttered angrily.

When no mail had arrived a few minutes later, she instead turned to a search engine on the phone’s browser and began looking through pages.

A _bing_ announced new e-mail and she jumped, realising she had already whiled away nearly an hour. She went straight to it and opened it up, finding the brochure attached and grinning. She sped through the PDF, her smile slowly dying by degrees.

“ _Shit_ ,” she hissed. “Not for sale.” She locked the phone and pushed it back in her suit jacket pocket. “Well, Marina, you may _think_ you’ve hidden it somewhere safe, but trust me - I will find it.” She started the engine and began to reverse out of the space - until she stopped dead. “Wait - the police department,” she gasped. “Oh you stupid, stupid—. I’ll bet it’s in their forensics lab.”

She roared out of the car park, squealing onto the main road and taking off at speed.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucifer planted his elbow on the bar, tipping his finger at Flo. “Another one, please.”

She began to dash ingredients into a large cocktail shaker. “You know drinking doesn’t help, right, Handsome?” she asked.

“Depends what you want help _with_ , doesn’t it?”

“True enough.” She turned to shovel some ice out of the metal bin and into a fresh glass. “Where’s your friend?”

“He’s not my friend,” he snorted. “He’s just another judgemental human with trust issues, who thinks he doesn’t need my help - a very good-looking one, granted. But still.” He looked at her as she poured the concoction into the glass. “Why do people distrust me? What have I _really_ done to make people think I’m so selfish?”

“Couldn’t tell you, honey,” she sighed. “Maybe they’re just jealous of you.”

“Jealous? Of what? My family? They can have them,” he grumped.

“Of you, wise-ass,” she smiled. “You said you have a club back in LA - and it does ok. You’re good-looking, you have money, and you sure have taste in clothes.”

“Thank you - I do, don’t I?”

“Maybe they’re just jealous that you got your life together like this, and they don’t.”

“Thank you, Flo,” he said, raising the glass to her. “You are a beacon of common sense.”

“I ain’t never been called that before,” she grinned. “But I’ll take it.”

He sipped at the drink. “And these Meshuggeners - brilliant, darling, absolutely brilliant. In fact, how would you like to sell me the licence to serve these back in LA? I could make it worth your while.”

She smiled. “Sorry, Handsome. That there is the only reason people come here to drink. If I sold away the right for someone else to make it, this place would close in a month.”

“How about you come and work for me? Then I could pay you very handsomely to make these for people without ever telling _anyone_ the recipe,” he said. “Deal?”

She folded her arms. “You’re pulling my leg, now, ain’t you.”

“Why on Earth would I do that?” he asked, surprised.

“You want to give me a bartender job in your fancy-ass club in LA, just because of that one drink?”

“I’ve done more for less,” he shrugged. “The question is, what’s important to you? Having people come from all over LA just to drink at the one place that serves _your_ infamous Meshuggener, or whiling away the time in this quite charming - but tiny - quaint bar?”

“Hey, everything that’s important to me is safely squirrelled away round _this_ city, thank you very much,” she smiled. “Ain’t nobody finding out where _that’s_ hidden.”

“Under your mattress?” he teased. “Can I look?”

“Get out of here,” she grinned, batting at his elbow. “I’m old school, Handsome, I go with family. You eat at Mary Mac’s, you know they got a safe. Me? I got family and I trust _them_ to stash stuff,” she winked.

Lucifer paused. He set down the drink slowly as he gazed at Flo. “Ancestors,” he whispered. “Flo - that’s it! You’re a genius!”

He chugged the rest of the drink, leapt off his bar stool, and slapped an outrageous amount of money on the bar in careless pre-occupation.

“You ok, honey?” she asked, picking up the money and just gawping at him.

“I am now - I have to go,” he grinned. “Thank you, Flo!”

“Sure,” she managed.

He ran out of the bar, the door swinging shut in a rather sedate arc behind him.

“Pace ‘o life these days - I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head.

 

ooOoo

 

John sighed, planting his hands on the counter and shaking his head. “Where the bloody hell did you hide it, love?” he sighed. He pushed himself upright and just stared at the bags, letting things turn over and over in his mind.

He stepped back and began to scoop up all the items, dumping them back in a single tray and taking it back to the locker. He shoved it inside and closed the door with a click.

The sound of a door opening far to his left made him pause. “Oh not you again,” he muttered. “Oi! I thought you’d slung your hook, mate!”

The plastic strips were pushed aside and a woman walked in. “Hello,” she said curiously.

“Ooh, hello,” he said, blinking in surprise. He looked her up and down, taking in the grey checked three-piece suit that reeked of Armani, the long brown hair and the fantastically expensive high heels. “Clocking on?”

“Do I look like I work here?” she asked with a smile.

He shrugged. “I don’t judge.”

“But you do know Marina. Tell me, do you have it?”

John’s smile faded. “Have what?”

“You know what I’m looking for. I’m guessing that’s why you’re even in here.” She walked closer. He took a step back, finding her a few inches taller than himself. “Well you _smell_ of magic,” she said. “At least, I _think_ that’s magic under all that cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave.”

“Duty Free ain’t what it used to be,” he said with a sarcastic smile.

“Give it to me and I won’t hurt you.”

“Easy, tiger,” he teased. “I normally get a bird’s name and at least her number before we get ourselves a room.”

Her hand whipped up and clamped around his windpipe. He gasped as her nails bit into his skin. “Where. Is. It.”

He fought for breath. His hands came up and clutched at her wrist. His mouth worked.

She rolled her eyes and loosened her grip on his windpipe a fraction. “Well?”

His lips moved. No sound escaped - but a thousand tiny pin-pricks slammed into her hand. She shrieked and let him go.

He coughed and nursed his throat as she shook her hand furiously.

“How dare you!” she seethed. “Your stupid little Harry Potter tricks are _nothing_ compared to a real wizard!”

“Oh I’m not a wizard, pet,” he sneered. “I’m a mage. There’s a difference.”

“Bull _shit_ ,” she snapped.

“Go look up the word and where it came from - I’ll wait. That’s if you can read,” he hurled back.

“Hand it over!”

“I don’t even know what you want!”

“I’ll make you tell me where it is,” she snapped. Her hands stretched out toward him, her mouth began to move.

He lifted his right hand, his fingers arched and pointing at her in silent fury. His lips moved quickly, silently.

Her eyes closed. She balled both fists. And then she opened them.

John was hurled off his feet as if swiped with an invisible baseball bat. He hammered into the wall behind and crashed down to the floor.

“Mage? Pathetic, that’s what you are,” she announced. “And I know what ‘mage’ means, fool. It means cheap conjurer, trickster, _charlatan_ ,” she growled.

“Yeah?” he coughed, feeling his head and trying to sit up. “Well in original Greek-Roman it still means _Zoroastrian practitioner_.” His hand flew up as if lifting a bowl toward the ceiling. She was tipped up and off her feet, flying back into the plastic strips and beyond.

He panted some air back, felt a warm trickle at his temple, but pushed himself to his feet. He heard the scrabble of shoes and squared his shoulders. Words, lines, hopeful snatches of useful spells came to mind.

But instead all he heard was the door slam. A solid _thunk_ made him strain for more sounds; there were none.

He hurried through the plastic strips to the main door. Yanking at the handle told him it was locked. He twisted and pulled but to no avail. A face appeared in the lead-lined safety glass of the window.

“The door is warded. You won’t be able to open it,” she sneered. “Don’t worry though, I’ve left some friends for you to play with. I’ll be back tomorrow to erase them and walk straight in there to find what I’m looking for. Do me a favour - hurry up and die.”

“You first,” he snapped.

She grinned, then flapped her fingers at him through the window. “Bye, _mage_.”

A quiet shuffle, a hiss.

He whipped around. Something black moved under the main table currently still holding the trays of sorted effects.

He flattened himself against the wall, sliding around it. He kept his eyes on the darkness under the table, currently moving slightly without giving away any of its secrets.

“Bollocks,” he tutted.

A head poked out from under the table. Dark green and very smooth, it crept further and further out, revealing itself to be a rather cross-looking python.

“Oh no - no, no, no,” he moaned.

Another head poked out - and another. Then a mess of coiled, squirming snakes tumbled out from under the table.

John swore, creatively and at length.

Then his eyes darted about. They freaked out. They begged his brain to come up with a solution. Fast.

 


	4. Snakes on a Mortal Plane

 

 

John stepped as silently as he could to his left. He slid his back against the wall even as he eyed the growing mass of pythons appearing from underneath the table as if they owned the place.

He sped up as they spilled out toward him. Lifting his shoe over one made him understand futility; he all but leapt over them simply hoping he hit the plastic strips.

He rolled through them. He shot upright and clambered onto the counter. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Think!” he panted. “Come on - protection. Banishment - something!”

The first of the snakes slithered under the plastic strips. The head swayed to and fro, the tongue flicking out faster and faster, trying to smell the human.

John stretched a hand out. “Banishment it is then,” he said. He cleared his throat and began to recite. The sound attracted another head from under the strips - and then another. His voice got louder.

The lead snake paused. It shook suddenly - and then a strangely muted _pop!_ announced the arrival of two snakes in its place.

“Bitch!” he marvelled. “Booby trapped snakes? Who booby traps a _snake_ , for crying out loud?” He thought furiously as the snakes turned in his direction. “No banishment then… How about protection?” He closed his eyes and blocked out everything except his mental search for a spell. He opened his eyes and turned both hands palm-up, facing the ceiling. His head went back and he glared at the roofing tiles.

“Spirits of the air and of the earth,” he began. “Your humble servant begs your divine love, your blessing of protection from all that consumes your air and moves on your earth. He asks this in order to continue to serve you, to—”

Another _pop!_ , another snake replaced with two.

“Bloody hell!” he snarled. “That’s just - just - _cheating!_ ”

A python wound itself around the leg to the counter. It began to slide up.

John edged back and then caught the soul-chilling sight of heads upon heads appearing from under the plastic strips. He looked up again at the ceiling.

He jumped and punched at a polystyrene tile with his fist. It shot up and landed a few inches shy of the hanging ceiling. He heard a hiss and looked down.

A bold snake was questing forward, across the table. He let out a yelp and jumped back. The snake made a bid for his ankle. He lifted his boot in abject fear. It caught the snake in the side of the head.

“Bastard!” He looked up and threw himself at the metal frame for the polystyrene tile. His hands went around it and he gripped for dear life.

Hissing and movement made him look down and back. Snakes now covered the entire table top; one of them reached out for his trenchcoat.

He swung himself forward. He grabbed the next rung of metal. His hand was flung up; it disturbed the next tile, and then the next. He swung across, grasping for the metal each time.

Snakes threw themselves from the table. All of them failed to bridge the gap between counter and human, plummeting back to the floor. They simply went straight back to the counter top and tried again.

John didn’t dare look back. He kept gripping and swinging as fast as he dared.

Until he came to the plastic strips. He cursed and looked down.

The floor was awash with snakes.

He looked back.

The counter was covered almost ankle-deep in pythons.

He caught his breath. He gripped harder.

A squeak made him look up at his hands. His right one attempted to slip.

He made himself keep squeezing despite the biting metal trying to gnaw through his fingers.

His desperate eyes went to the railing that was holding up the plastic strips. He reached for it. It came away in his hand.

“Gah! Christ!” he cried in pure fear.

The railing slipped from his hand. He swung back and grabbed onto his metal ceiling frame. Blood covered his fingers. Suddenly everything was slippery.

The sound of an indistinct voice made him look down. “Who’s that?” he cried.

“John?”

“Who—? _Help!_ ”

John watched, open-mouthed, as Lucifer appeared through the doorframe now bereft of plastic strips. The Devil paused, a wide smile on his face, his hands clasped in front of him. “Well, well, well,” he said grandly.

The snakes simply parted around him and carried on massing on the table behind John.

“Well don’t just stand there - help me!” the human cried.

“Me? Help you?” Lucifer asked. “I thought you didn’t trust me, John.”

“I trust you to save my life!”

“Do you? Honestly?” Lucifer asked. “You know, I only came back here because Flo triggered a brainwave and I thought I could help you find that little trinket you were after.” He paused, watching the snakes. “But then, you made it very clear you don’t want me anywhere near whatever it is. So… maybe I should just go.” He turned to leave.

“You conniving bastard!” John hurled in anger.

He spun to regard the human. “I’m sorry - are you still talking to the only person who could help you right now?”

“Yeah - _you!_ ” John shouted. “You’re going to use this as an excuse for me to give you the bloody thing! Don’t lie!”

Lucifer’s face went dark. He drew himself up.

“Oh don’t think putting your poncy face on will scare me!” John snapped. “That might work on your normal cowering human but it don’t matter what your face looks like when I couldn’t be shitting myself _any more than I am right now!_ ”

Lucifer stopped short. “What?”

“Look around you!” John cried. “Any moment now I’m going to slip off this thing and one of these little shits is going to bite me and then I’ll die!”

“No it won’t,” Lucifer said smoothly. “You’ll slip off that thing and then one of those little shits is going to _wrap around you_ and _squeeze you to death_. They’re pythons, not cobras.”

“Oh that’s great! Thanks, David Attenborough!”

Lucifer sighed. “Look, John, much as you won’t believe me, I actually _don’t_ want you to die. There’s that whole First of the Fallen thing which still—,” he paused to put a hand up, giggling, “well I’m sorry but it _still_ tickles me. And then there’s the whole ‘understanding what magic actually costs’ thing you do so well. I mean, I have to say it - a lot of us down there actually admired you for a while. Some of us still regard your jammy deal-dodging as positively high- _larious_. And you _are_ easy on the eyes.”

John gritted his teeth as he felt his hand, slick with blood, begin to slip. “Then - get - me - out - of - here,” he seethed.

“But would you let me help you solve this case, help you punish who’s responsible?” Lucifer asked. “I mean I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t - you’ve heard the propaganda against me since you were born, and from beings far more knowledgeable than just a pulpit preacher. It’s only fair to assume the worst, I suppose.”

“You want me to say I trust you not to steal the MacGuffin? And then you’ll save me?” John asked.

“In a word… yes.”

John’s hand slipped. He clawed at the metal, getting a fresh grip. He looked down, between his feet. Then he looked back at the table. Finally his eyes went back to Lucifer. “No,” he said clearly. “Sod off.”

“You are an _impressive_ human being,” Lucifer marvelled. “Really. Everyone goes on about what an absolute wanker you can be - but you have principals, and you stick to them. Stubbornly, in fact.”

“Do me a favour,” John said with enough anger to fill the Titanic, “don’t watch as I get squeezed to death.”

“Oh John, you’re not going to die today. I couldn’t let that happen.” He crouched down and grasped the head of the nearest snake as if picking up a pencil. He turned its face round to look at him. His eyes glowed red - and then his entire face was engulfed in flame.

An intense feeling of sick dread swept over John as he witnessed Lucifer’s head become a raging skull of the deepest red fire he had ever seen.

The snake burst into flame. Lucifer let go. As it fell and touched another snake, that too became its own fire.

John watched in horrid fascination as snake after snake went up in a belch of harsh red flames. No smoke, no smell, no heat emanated from the piles and piles of burning reptiles.

“Hellfire,” he whispered in awe.

“You’re correct - and very welcome,” Lucifer said with a smile. He put his hands in his pockets and the two of them watched the last of the snakes burn to a shrivelled crisp on the tiles.

John stared - and stared. The floor and table were now host to hundreds upon hundreds of burnt, withered carcasses. There was no ash, not a single burn mark on the floor tiles. No flame remained, no heat rose up, no stink spread across the room. As John’s eyes goggled at the corpses they abruptly fell in on themselves, first crumbling to ash - and then into nothing at all.

The pristine, unmarked floor and table simply waited.

John looked at Lucifer.

The Devil sniffed nonchalantly before looking around the room. “That should do it.” He looked up at John. “You can get down now. Unless you’re waiting for me to catch you.”

John’s fingers slipped out of pure relief. He plummeted to the floor.

Lucifer crouched to watch him roll to his back and scrunch up his face in pain.

“Why?” John groaned. “You could have let me die.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lucifer asked, but when John looked at him, his face was the most serious John had seen so far. “Come on, up you get. I think I have a lead on how to find this thing, after all.”

“How?” John asked. He began to push himself to his feet.

Lucifer put his hand to his arm and all but hauled him up. He held onto him, his other hand dusting down John’s trenchcoat. “Something Flo said - about ancestors.”

“What _are_ you talking about?” John demanded. He pushed himself clear. “And why did you just help me even though I told you to go forth and multiply?”

Lucifer grinned. “Because I need you, John, to help me finish this case. So much has happened to me lately, and—.” He paused. “This case is taking my mind off it. It’s giving me fresh perspective. Plus, whomever just tried to have you squeezed to death _definitely_ rates punishment, so there’s that to look forward to.” He heaved a huge pat into John’s back, making the shorter man stagger for balance. “So chin up, fragile-yet-attractive-human - we still have a trinket to chase down.”

John turned and walked to the counter, putting his hands on it and leaning on them with his very soul. “Yeah, ok, whatever,” he said wearily. “The Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Hell, the Lightbringer to all, the Morning Star of Sin-Punishing and Associated Arse-kickery just saved me from a wizard who was trying to kill me because she thinks I have this magic thing. No big deal. Just a normal Tuesday.”

“A wizard? How exciting!” he grinned. “Did you get her name? What does she look like?”

John turned slowly. “One,” he said with an incredibly even voice given his inner turmoil, “grab what you came for and let’s go.”

“And two?”

“And two - I need a bloody big drink.”

“Amen,” Lucifer nodded.

ooOoo

 

The door to the bar opened and Lucifer strode in with a cheerful flick of his jacket before he buttoned it up. John came in behind him, looking rather like a recipient of a three-day bender complete with bad whiskey and worse sleeping arrangements.

Lucifer plonked himself at the bar and looked left and right. “Flo! I say, darling!” he called.

The dishevelled form of John Constantine just about made it to a bar stool before collapsing onto it like a broken telescope. His forearms went to the bar top and his forehead plummeted into them with frightening speed.

Flo chose that moment to appear from the side door to Lucifer’s left. “Well hello again, Handsome,” she grinned. “Back to pry my recipe from me?”

“Never,” Lucifer said. “Instead I’d like another of your special drinks, and my worn-out friend here will have a brandy.”

“Brandy?” she asked, confused.

“He’s had the most terrible shock, the poor thing,” Lucifer said, his face one of ultimate commiseration.

“Well ain’t you a good friend,” she said, turning away for glasses.

“I know!” Lucifer grinned. He clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “Right, quick nip of the good stuff and then you can shake off this patheticness and help me with this witch’s thing.”

John raised his head. “Yeah, fine. I nearly died like twenty minutes ago, my hands are bandaged with old handkerchiefs because they haven’t stopped bleeding yet, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours. But hey, forget about me - let’s help _you_.”

“About time,” Lucifer nodded. John just gaped at him as the Devil reached into his inside pocket. “Remember this?”

The human looked at it. “You said it was a divination rod, or something.”

“That I did. I also believe that clever old Marina secreted the world-ending and terrible MacGuffin weapon somewhere _not_ of this earthly plane - she stashed it somewhere that friends and family couldn’t find it. It stands to reason that she’d leave herself a way to find it again. Out of all of her collection taken from her apartment, _this_ doesn’t fit in. I think she kept it to find the MacGuffin.”

“There we are - one brandy,” Flo said, placing it in front of John. “Oh, honey - look at your hands,” she tutted. “You get in that washroom and clean them - all proper like - and I’ll get the Band Aids.”

John offered her a weary smile. “I’ll be ok.”

“You will - because you’re going to clean yourself up. Do you want a staph infection?”

John slid off the stool without a word and went straight toward the sign advertising the men’s room. Lucifer watched him go, then turned back to her. He watched her measure out various ingredients into a large cocktail shaker.

Presently she placed the chilled result in front of him. “I’ve never made so many in a week,” she smiled, picking up her bar towel and wiping her hands on it.

“Well my offer still stands, if you’d consider moving to LA.” He picked up the glass and sipped it.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Then I’ll just have to pop back here now and then, won’t I?” he grinned.

“You could do worse than get out of La-La Land for good, you know.” She shook her head. “I’ve heard all kindsa strange stories from over that side.”

He smiled wickedly. “I assure you, most of them will have something to do with me.”

She batted at his elbow. “Oh, you.” She turned away and crouched to go through cupboards under the glass racks.

John came wandering back, looking much more refreshed as he sat back on the bar stool. He held his hands up for Flo to see. “Clean and dry, love.”

“Better,” she nodded wisely. She brought a box back to the counter and opened it up, searching through for plasters. “So what brings you two back here? You know you’re always welcome, but judging by the state of you, son, you’re having a bad day.”

John smiled. “We were just looking for something a friend of mine had - we think she’s hidden it somewhere.”

“Why would she do that?” Flo asked, producing the first in a high pile of Band Aids. She pulled off the first white backing strip and took John’s right hand, curling his index finger slightly before wrapping the plaster loosely around the angry cut on the inside.

“She was very careful with her belongings,” Lucifer said. “And for good reason.”

Flo looked away from John’s hand as someone called for her attention. She left the pile of plasters with him. “You look after yourself while I see to this gent,” she said kindly.

He smiled and she walked off.

Lucifer immediately turned to him. John ignored him completely, instead picking up another Band Aid and stripping a piece of backing tape from it. “So,” Lucifer said, “we need you to use this witch’s divination rod to find the MacGuffin. Then we get ready to defend it from all comers.”

John tilted his head to look slightly up at him. “You sound excited.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” he grinned. “It’s going to be an epic showdown, John.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, sounding rather weary.

“Marina did a very good job curating all that stuff in her apartment - and other planes, I rather fancy. She did _not_ deserve to be killed for it, not when half of the stuff she kept safe was so dangerous. This wizard person either killed her or caused someone else to, so for that she deserves to be punished. Which is where you and I come in.”

John sniffed casually, finishing up another finger and choosing the next Band Aid. “Literally not my job, mate.”

“You’re not thinking this through,” Lucifer said, surprised. “Now we have this to lead us to the MacGuffin, whomever killed poor Marina is going to come for _us_ \- and seeing as they used some kind of magic to despatch her, they could do some real damage.”

“How do you know they’re going to come for us?”

“It’s classic perp behaviour - trust me. Seen it a hundred times working with the LAPD.”

John scowled at him. “It would draw out whoever wants this - which we _don’t_ want, remember?”

“Which brings me to a very good question, John,” Lucifer said slowly. He sipped at his drink as he eyed the human. “Why do _you_ want it?”

He continued calmly, slowly, wrapping a plaster around his smallest finger. “What’s it to you?”

“Well I’ve just saved your life - I thought we were friends. Come on, you can tell me. After all, who am I going to tell?”

John watched his own fingers start on his other hand. “It’s going to be locked away, where no-one else can get it.”

“So you can have it for yourself, is that it?” Lucifer asked lightly.

John was not fooled. “Believe me, I don’t want to _touch_ it, let alone use it - or let anyone _else_ use it.”

“So why not just destroy it?”

“You can’t. Well, _humans_ can’t - normally. Unless a better way than we already know can be found, the energy release would be catastrophic.”

“Well hand it over then - I’ll get rid of it for you. It can’t harm me, after all.”

John raised his eyebrows at him. “We’ve talked about this. You still want me to hand the Devil himself the magic equivalent of a nuclear weapon?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Honestly, it’s not like I’d even _need_ that to cause destruction on a massive scale. And it _really_ isn’t my style, darling.”

John glowered at him for a long moment. “First we find it, _then_ we decide how to keep it hidden. Deal?”

“No,” Lucifer said slowly. “Truce; you and I find it, then we have this conversation again.”

John studied his face. Eventually he nodded. “Fine.”

“Good,” Lucifer said brightly. He slapped his hands together and rubbed. “Now then - where do we start?”

 

ooOoo

 

She tried the door handle to feel it give and the door swing open. “Hello?” she called haughtily, waiting for silence to greet her.

“Um - excuse me,” said a voice.

She jumped and strode into the room to find a tech wearing blue gloves, a name tag that said Tanya, and look of surprise. “Oh, hi,” she said with a smile. “I’m here to remove the body of a nosy British idiot in a trenchcoat?”

“What body?” Tanya asked. “This is forensics - not pathology.”

She looked around, then walked around the long metal table covered in artefacts. “But… a man was killed here. Last night.”

“Nope,” Tanya shrugged. She turned to watch the taller woman circle the room. “I mean someone went through all the evidence bags and the plastic temperature flaps fell down in the night, but apart from that—”

She whipped around the stare at her. “What?” she demanded.

“Look, who are you? You’re not supposed to be in here.”

She took a deep breath, letting it go slowly along with her anger. “I’m obviously in the wrong place.” She stormed off, closing the door behind her.

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. She pulled off her left glove and delved in her white lab coat pocket. Producing a cell phone, she thought for a moment and began to call.

 

ooOoo

 

John opened the door to the mill house, looking behind him. “Be careful with everything in here,” he said. “And I do mean everything. In fact, just don’t touch a single thing.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “I’m impervious to pretty much everything, John.”

“Yeah, and knowing you, you’ll end up burning this whole place down by accident. All that’ll be left is you and your suit, with that clueless look on your face. So do us both a favour and _do not touch anything_.”

“Drama queen,” Lucifer tutted.

John glared at him. “Is that angel for ‘I understand ‘ _do not touch_ ’?’” He stepped through the door.

Lucifer followed him in, finding a staircase that took them down into a large, open room. He looked behind him at a table and shelf-covered walls, then in front to see a large mill stone had been covered in a tattered cloth with the remains of a burnt item. He wandered over, his hands in his pockets. “You know, most people use sat navs these days,” he mused, finding the burnt pieces of a map had been moved to approximate what it had once been.

“Don’t touch,” John called, from way behind him. He turned and saw the human pulling a bottle out from underneath the sink to a kitchenette.

“I heard you first three times,” Lucifer said, with borderline irritation.

John brought the bottle back to the mill stone and undid the screw cap. He took a small swig and then placed it on the map.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lucifer said, picking up the bottle. He put it to his lips as John put a hand up. His mouth opened but then he gave up, just watching Lucifer take his own sip.

He moved to put the bottle down but then coughed. He managed to slap a hand over his mouth but whatever was causing a swallowing reversal appeared quite painful. He dashed to the kitchenette. His hands grasped at the edge of the sink as a tiny fountain of liquid shot from his mouth toward the plughole. He panted in effort, shaking his head and then running the tap. Snatching a glass from the drainer to his left, he poured himself some water and then took a few sips. Eventually the Devil righted himself, put down his glass, pulled his jacket straight, and glared at John. “What - the - Hell—?”

“I told you not to touch anything,” John said, but his face and tone were smug to the extreme. “It’s gin. Very expensive gin, but gin nonetheless.”

“That was _not_ gin,” Lucifer coughed, still recovering his equilibrium. He came back to the mill stone.

John picked up the bottle and turned it around to wave the label in his face. “Yes it is. Says so, right there.” He put it down again. “It’s very expensive, on account of the juniper berries used for the mash having been grown in sterile soil irrigated only with _holy water_.”

The look Lucifer turned on him was murderous. “Who would do such an evil thing?”

“Humans,” John shrugged.

“And you thought that was funny, did you?” he accused.

“No. It’s the only gin I have in the house. I _did_ tell you not to touch anything,” he said with a deliberate smile. Lucifer glared. John grinned. “Now are we going to make this divination rod thing work, or what?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a good job you’re pretty,” he warned.

John blinked, surprised.

Lucifer cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and produced the rod from his inside jacket pocket. “I reckon Marina will have already keyed this to finding the MacGuffin. I need you to tell it to do that.”

John took it from him and eyed it in his bandaged fingers. “Hmm.”

“You _can_ do that, can’t you?” Lucifer asked.

“Probably,” John muttered. “But first I’ll have to work out how it thinks.”

“Right. Fine,” Lucifer said. He folded his arms, leaning back on the mill stone. “How long will that take?”

“How long’s a piece of string?” John said with a certain degree of annoyance. He looked at him. “Sit down. And _don’t touch anything_.”

Lucifer pushed himself up, his arms dropping for his hands to land in his trouser pockets. He began to wander off. “If I can’t touch anything, then technically I can’t sit down,” he replied tartly.

 

ooOoo

 

She got back into the sedan, shutting the door a little harder than she had meant to. “Goddamn it,” she hissed. Her elbow went to the window block and she let her forehead slap into the attached palm as plans and thoughts went through her head.

Starting the car, she took herself back across town and toward the apartment complex. Noticing that the police were still absent from the apparently low-priority crime scene, she parked up and crossed to the door. A quick hike of the stairs found her again standing in Marina Morello’s front room.

“There must be something,” she snapped. She stormed around in a circle, taking in the carnage she had caused the last time she had been there. Something caught her eye and she crossed to the corner. Her hands went to her knees to afford her a close-up of the fish bowl.

“If only you could talk,” she sighed. She straightened up and was about to turn when something made her pause. She looked down directly in front of the table holding the fish bowl. Her eyes flicked down to the floorboards - and a small brown and off-white item next to a seam.

She crouched and picked it up to find it a flattened cigarette butt. Examining it closely only confirmed her suspicion that it was both very cold and very old. She sniffed at it before pulling her phone from her pocket. She searched for something with her thumb, then changed her mind and instead took a photo of the butt.

Her phone worked away, until something made her pause. She read carefully. She scrutinised the picture. And then she grinned.

She dropped the dog-end and left the apartment.

 

ooOoo

 

John sniffed to himself casually, checking where Lucifer was in relation to the flute-like item in his hands. The Devil had ambled over to the shelves to their left, and was in the process of bending closer to begin looking at all the objects laid out on display. John shook his head before his eyes went back to the rod. He tipped it one way, feeling for bumps and slight imperfections in the surface. He turned it the other way and his thumb tripped over another ridge. He again checked for Lucifer - who appeared to be wholly invested in staring at a bright copper helmet so closely it was a wonder his nose wasn’t grazing the finish. John pressed his thumb and two fingers into the rod over the hidden bumps, watching it begin to emit a soft glow. He shifted his thumb hastily to make the light die. Watching the other man, he put his other hand over where his thumb had been and pressed. His two fingers moved and pressed again, until the rod pulsed three times. Suddenly it lit up and he let go with his right hand. The light died. He shifted it all to his right hand and pressed the thumb area and the two fingers. The glow came back up.

“Think I’ve got it,” he announced.

Lucifer spun on the balls of his feet. “At last. Where are we going?”

John pulled his trenchcoat straight, then sniffed. “We follow the rod. If I’m reading this thing right then it’s less than twenty miles away.” He looked at him. “Can you drive?”

“Impeccably.”

“Then let’s go.”

 


	5. Ctrl Alt Unlock

 

 

“Thank you,” she said with a wide grin. “He’ll be so happy when I turn up at his place with these. He was running low.”

The shopkeeper leant on the counter with his own smile. “Anytime, ma’am. You know, he’s the only one I know who smokes that brand, and the only one I know who actually owns a mill house. And any chance I have to get rid of that stock is fine with me.”

She lifted the cigarette carton in her hand. “Well, thanks again. I’ll just go deliver these.”

“You take care, now.”

She nodded and walked out of the shop, hearing the door chime tinkle as it closed behind her. She raised the piece of paper in her left hand to read the address again. “It’s true what they say,” she grinned as she strode to her car and unlocked the door. “Smoking really is bad for you.” She threw the carton and herself in, started the engine, and pulled away with barely a thought as to traffic.

 

ooOoo

 

The blue truck started up without much protest, although the sound of the engine suggested it was not happy about being woken and was in fact becoming more and more averse to it as Lucifer let it idle.

The blare of an old fashioned ringtone caught both him and John, in the passenger seat, by surprise. “Is that you?” he asked.

John patted at his pockets. “Yeah. Hang on.” He fished out a decidedly old phone. Frowning at the number, he pressed the green key and slapped it to his ear. “Who’s this?”

Lucifer turned himself to see him better, folding his arms and trying not to let annoyance crease his features.

“Oh, Tanya. Alright, pet?” John paused. “A woman? Was she wearing a smart suit?” he asked. “Right, right. Yeah. Oh I know her, yeah. Were you worried about me?” he asked slyly. Then he grinned. “Well that’s not an admission but I’ll take it. Thanks, love. Yeah. Later.” He brought the phone down to his knee, pressing the red key and looking at the Devil. “The woman, the wizard you’re so keen to track down?” he prompted. “She went back to the forensics lab to clean up my dead body.”

“Splendid!” Lucifer grinned. “And what did she do when you weren’t there?”

“The lovely Tanya says she got a bit angry and stormed out.” He paused. “She’s probably exhausted all her possibilities for finding this thing.”

“Which will make it easier to make her come to us,” Lucifer said. “Can we get on with this already?”

John pushed the phone back in his pocket and then felt around in the inside trenchcoat pockets for something. He rummaged around before he produced the tiny flute-like item. His fingers went over the holes and a warm glow began to emanate from the item. “Get to the main road - then I’ll direct you.”

“About time,” Lucifer said. He wrestled the truck into gear and pulled away from the mill house. The tyres crunched through gravel and twigs as he found the main road. Pulling out left, he realised the rear view mirror was at a completely inappropriate angle for someone of his height, and put a hand out to adjust it.

So he didn’t see the beige sedan that pulled away from the gravel at the side of the road, and begin to keep a smart distance behind them.

 

ooOoo

 

Detective Nugent’s phone, sitting idly on her desk as if waiting to clock off for the day, abruptly rang. She looked at it with suspicion before picking up the receiver. “Nugent.”

“Hey, Detective.”

“Walter - anything on that weird radiation?” she asked. She leant back in her chair to focus solely on the call.

“Actually, yes and no,” his voice said somewhat sadly. “Yes, I have something - it was definitely radiation, and a whopping great burst, that caused the immediate cellular death of Miss Marina Morello.”

“And the no part?” she asked.

“The experts I’ve spoken to say that they have no idea what could produce that kind of directed and intense radiation seemingly on demand.”

“Why do you say ‘directed’?”

“Well she had fish in that apartment, and plants. Nothing else was affected, so whatever it was either only worked in a very tiny area or it was specifically directed at her. Now her entire body was subjected to it, so I’m guessing whatever it was can be set to an entire person, rather than just pointed at a corner of the room.”

“Walter… You’re eerily good at guessing a weapon’s capabilities without even knowing it exist.”

“I play a lot of _Warcraft_ ,” was his reply.

She grinned. “Well thanks for the info. I’ll see where it leads us. Oh - did your experts have any idea how anyone would go about inventing a machine to do this?”

“Well, I did ask… But you’re not going to like the answer.”

“Try me,” she said.

“They said the only person who could probably build this would be - and I quote - Tony Stark.”

She huffed. “Ok, thanks for trying, Walter. I guess I’ll be on the look-out for a non-existent directed radiation machine-type-weapon.”

“Good luck with that.”

She smiled ruefully and put the phone down. Sliding down in her chair a little, she rested her head on the back and considered the ceiling. “Wednesdays,” she sighed.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucifer flicked on a right hand turning signal and took off down a side street. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“For the fifth time, shut up and drive,” John said. He fished out a packet of Silk Cut and managed to shuffle one out just as he remembered to keep his fingers and thumb pressing on the divination rod.

Lucifer reached over and plucked the cigarette from the top of the pack. “Ta.”

John looked at him - just looked. Then he wrangled another one free and stuck the end in his own mouth. Shuffling the pack back in his trenchcoat pocket, he instead produced a lighter and managed to get it going. Lucifer waited, then when John nudged his elbow and offered the lighter, he used it too.

“Any idea _how_ she’ll have stashed this item where it is?” Lucifer asked around the cigarette in his mouth, handing the lighter back.

“In an unmarked box that doesn’t draw attention to itself, probably,” John replied. He took a drag of the Silk Cut, blowing the resulting stream out of the missing window.

“Just thinking ahead - like how we’re going to get it back to the truck.”

“Left up ahead,” John said, his eyes on the rod.

Lucifer took them across busy traffic by simply waving his left hand - and attached cigarette - out of the driver’s window as if parting the Red Sea. He took them down the quiet street, slowing to peer out of the windscreen at the houses. “This doesn’t look very promising.”

“Well according to this rod, the MacGuffin is somewhere within a hundred feet.”

“Excellent. Does it say in which direction?”

“It’s not being very specific.”

“Can’t you _make_ it more specific? I mean, that’s why you’re here.”

“Thanks,” John said sarcastically. “Stop the truck.”

Lucifer pulled over to the side of the road, behind a parked car that had seen better days a few years ago. The engine idled as the Devil looked ahead and then behind. “What happened to this street?” he mused.

“House prices and repossessions, by the looks of it,” John said, his eyes still on the divination road. “Ok - we’re walking.” He opened the passenger door and slid out, closing it firmly behind him and then taking a long drag on the cigarette. He dropped it and crushed it with his foot.

Lucifer appeared from round the side of the truck, similarly getting rid of his cigarette. “Well?”

“This next bit is what we in the trade call ‘trial and error’,” he smiled.

“Wonderful. Why can’t magic be - well - more like science?” Lucifer moaned.

“Do you hear yourself talk?” John lifted the rod and turned to his left, then spun to his right. “This way.” He turned back to his left and began to walk.

 

ooOoo

 

She pulled slowly down the street, watching the two heads bounce down the pavement behind cars that were either parked or just plain abandoned. The sedan drifted slower and slower until the two heads stopped and turned. They disappeared and she had to pull up so that the passenger window stopped between two parked cars.

“Alleyway, huh?” she mused, spying two men making their way down between properties. “Or… the rear of that house?”

She put the car into gear and drove on until she found a space at the kerb. She parked quickly and got out, leaving her suit jacket on the passenger seat. She locked everything up and hurried back down the pavement. Getting to the corner of a house that had been boarded up a while ago, she edged round it to find the two men now standing at the far corner of the same house.

The man in the dark suit had his hands in his pockets as he appraised the two storey building and all of its boarded up egresses. But the man in the trenchcoat had something in his hands, something he was studying and then twirling around like a compass.

She smiled. And then she turned and stole across the front of the house, away from the alleyway. Instead she went around the opposite side of the house, kicked in a flimsy sheet of wood over what used to be a dog-flap in the back door, and shuffled her way inside.

 

ooOoo

 

“Can you imagine what this place must have been like before the area went under?” Lucifer was saying. He gazed up at the house. “This place must be at least… a hundred years old. What a place for a _party_ ,” he grinned.

“Not old enough for the kind of powerful magic Marina would have needed to obscure this thing we’re after,” John muttered as he turned the divination rod in his fingers.

“Well ok, so a hundred years isn’t old _per se_ ,” Lucifer shrugged, “but it’s not bad for this country, you have to admit.”

“It’s definitely in this house,” John said. “Get us inside.”

Lucifer didn’t so much as spare him a glance. Instead he climbed the five shallow steps to the porch area, and then assessed the front door. He wormed his fingers around the top measure of wood currently nailed across it. A few good tugs and he had most of the door uncovered. He grasped the door knob but it came away in his hand. He simply tossed it into the unkempt grass next to the steps and gave the door a gentle push. It swished inwards silently and he stood to one side, waving a hand at it. “Off you go.”

John went up the steps slowly, his eyes mostly on the rod. He paused to look inside the doorway to find the house dark. Huffing to himself, he stepped over the bottom plank still nailed in place across the entrance, and found himself in a dingy hallway, lit only by tiny slits in the wood currently covering the windows.

Lucifer stepped in after him, causing the boards to creak under his expensive shoes. “How big is this thing, anyway?”

“No bigger than a book.”

“How big’s the book?”

“Sshh,” John hissed in irritation. He turned on the spot, watching the glow from the rod. Eventually, after completing more than one circle, he turned back to a doorway off to Lucifer’s right. “In there.”

Lucifer looked at it. Then back at John. “And?”

“Well I thought you wanted to find it as much as I did?”

“I thought you didn’t trust me with it,” he smiled gamely. “Now you want me to go first and pick it up, don’t you?”

“Well I’m the compass.”

“Bollocks, John,” Lucifer said, his smile falling. “You’re worried something’s protecting it, and you also know I’ll be immune to it.”

“You got me,” John said with a sarcastic smile.

“All you had to say was ‘you go first - you can’t die’,” Lucifer tutted. “I’m not one of your pet humans you have to manipulate to do your bidding.”

John cleared his throat. “Easy, mate. Just get in there and pick it up, seeing as you’re impervious.”

“I’ll go in there and pick it up because it suits _me_ , thank you very much,” he sniffed. He took his hands from his trouser pockets, buttoned up his suit jacket, and walked toward the door.

He tried the door handle but it almost disintegrated under his touch. He let go quickly and instead just pushed at the wooden barrier. It swung inwards to reveal an equally dark room. He simply walked in as if the place were brightly lit, stopping by a low coffee table between two sofas.

“It’s safe, John,” he called over his shoulder. “And very dusty.” He turned in a circle, his eyes going over all the cupboards and potential hidey-holes in the room.

John appeared in the doorway, the rod still up and still glowing. “Somewhere behind you - in the far corner.”

Lucifer wended his way between the sofas to come to a small table in the right-angled corner of the room. His hand ran over it, disturbing the dust, before he backed up one and looked down. “Or is it _under_ us?” he asked. “Last time you were looking under a fish tank, as I recall.”

John stopped short. “In the corner, the Calling Card said. Four boards across, three in.” He shook his head. “I thought he was talking about the boards under the fish bowl. Maybe he didn’t know it was _this_ place.”

Lucifer stepped around to count the narrow boards making up the floor. “Four across,” he said, his eyes skipping from the wall on his right. “Three… in.” He crouched down and grasped the board in his sights. It refused to budge. He lifted his hand, made a fist, and simply whammed it down through the wood with ease. It splintered and gave, caving in around his forearm and dropping away. He lifted his hand to put both palms to the floor. His head went down and his arse went up in the air as he scrutinised everything hiding under the boards.

John’s eyes slid over everything in sight before he pulled himself together. “Anything?”

“Something. Not sure what, though.” Lucifer pulled back to get his right hand down through the gap. He grasped something and pulled it back up to shake dust and spider webs from it. A very dirty, once-white cloth was wrapped around something bigger than his hand. He got up, dusted himself down, and then backed up to take it to the coffee table.

John took a step back as Lucifer set it down carefully, then installed himself on the sofa. He picked at a corner of the cloth, having to nearly rip it free from the layer underneath. “This has been here… a very long time,” he mused, noticing the stains of age on the cloth got lighter as he peeled away layers. “Is _this_ what was keeping it hidden? I don’t know what this cloth is made of but it reeks of divine intervention.” Eventually he opened one up to reveal a frail-looking expanse of something ivory-coloured. “Oh. Well, I suppose it was as good a place as any to hide it.” He peeled open the entire last layer to let the cloth land on the table.

“It that a—.” John stopped short. Lucifer’s eyes went over the skull very carefully, peering at it in fascination - and then perhaps recognition. “Anyone you know?” he asked curiously.

“Not a someone…” Lucifer said. “More of a some _what_.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” Lucifer said, taking the intact skull from the table and lifting it and its wrappings between them, “is not human. It’s one of the Eumenides.”

John frowned. “The what?”

“The Eumenides,” he said. John shook his head. “The Erinyes?” he asked. Again, John shook his head. “The Furies?”

“A Fury? That’s the skull of a Fury? I thought they were folklore?” John gasped.

“To a lot of people, so am I,” Lucifer said gamely. He turned the cloth in his hands to look the skull over very carefully. “What I don’t understand is why it’s here. This is not the massive huge weapon you were worried about - it can’t be.”

John let the hand holding the rod drop. “Don’t tell me we’ve come all this way for nothing.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Well I’m sure it’s worth something, but it’s not leading us anywhere.”

“Bugger.” He wiped a hand over his face. “So all this was a waste of time.”

“Other than you collecting something else to keep on your dusty shelves back at that intriguing mill house you have.” Lucifer turned the skull to one side to peer at the jaw, then round again to study all of the angles peeking out from the cloth. “It’s amazing - you have to wonder how this lady got her hands on it in the first place. I mean, this is millennia old. It’s stunning.”

“It’s a useless relic that does not help us,” John sighed.

“Charming.” Lucifer turned it right-side up and tossed it at John.

He caught the ball of cloth awkwardly in one hand, then sent a damning look at the Devil. “Child.”

“Well you could at least check it over before I _make_ you take it back to your collection of odds and sods.” He got up from the sofa.

John pushed the rod in his pocket, then lifted the skull and shook it to move the cloth, to allow him to look at it more carefully. “It looks human to me.” He shook it again, then lifted it close to his ear.

“That’s because _you’re_ human.”

“Sshh.”

“What can you hear?” Lucifer whispered.

“I think… it’s trying to… say something,” John breathed.

“What? What’s it saying?” Lucifer asked, excited.

“I hear…”

“Yes?”

“I can hear…”

“What?”

“The ocean,” he whispered. Lucifer sagged in annoyance. John grinned at him. “Nothing - it’s saying nothing, you daft git. It’s been dead for millennia.”

Lucifer tutted. “Then let’s get out of this filthy hovel.”

They went back out of the room and turned left to the front door. Lucifer paused as John walked straight out of the front door and down the steps, the wrappings around the skull firmly grasped in his right hand. Lucifer looked behind him, then turned in a circle to check the entire area. When nothing jumped out at him, he shrugged and walked off, catching John up to head back off down the alleyway toward the street.

She slid out from the far room, creaking across the boards and watching their heads disappear down the street. “God _dammit_ you two are useless,” she grumbled.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucifer pulled the truck up at the mill house, yanking it into Park and cutting the engine. He turned to look at John, who was still staring at the skull in his hands. “Anything?” he asked.

“No,” John grunted past a cigarette in his lips. “I don’t get it. What did Marina need this for? Why set the rod to point to this? It’s not useful.”

“Maybe she just liked it.” He wrestled the door open and slid out to the gravel. “Maybe she understood how old it was. Maybe she had a thing for Eumenides - Furies.”

“Why? All they did was curse people who broke promises, right?”

“If you know nothing of Greek lore, then yes, I suppose,” Lucifer said. He looked around at the mill house behind them. “Well? What next?”

“We’re still no closer to finding this MacGuffin,” John said, climbing out of the truck and shutting the door with his elbow. “Tell you what - a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich, and all this might become clear.”

“I fail to see how cheerfully flavoured tannin and grilled animal products will change anything.”

“Because you’re not human,” John grinned.

“You must have booze in there somewhere.”

“Only the gin. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to try that again.”

Lucifer gasped as if he’d been gut-punched. “You mean you have _nothing_ to drink in there?”

“You’re welcome to nip to the shop and get something.”

Lucifer’s eyes rolled so far and so fast it was a wonder they didn’t get whiplash. “Let’s just get this skull out of all that dirty wrapping and look it over properly, shall we?”

John walked round him to the door, took the cigarette from his mouth and stomped it out, then fished for his keys in his pocket. He unlocked the door and walked in.

Lucifer followed him inside, along the short landing and down the iron staircase to the mill stone currently masquerading as a table. As John reached out and put the skull down, Lucifer turned and his eyes went over the front room very carefully.

“What?” John asked.

“Are you sure no-one else is here?” he asked carefully.

“Very. This entire place is booby-trapped.”

“While I approve and am very curious about any trap that involves tantalising lady parts, are you _sure_ they’re working?”

“Why?”

“Because… it feels like we’re being watched.” He took a step, then spun right round, taking in the whole room. “I felt it in that run-down house, too… but this is stronger.” He looked over his shoulder, then turned to face whatever he could feel. “ _Much_ stronger.”

John’s head tilted. He walked past him toward a mirror, looking into it for a long moment. He waved a hand across it, then waited. “Well no-one’s been here - any movement since we’ve been out would show up here.” He pulled off his trenchcoat and tossed it to the chair next to him. “Tea.”

“Hmm,” Lucifer managed. He continued to watch the room as John walked past him and went to the kitchenette, making himself busy with water into kettles and flames from the gas stove.

Lucifer took a deep breath and let it out, shaking his head. He crossed to the mill stone to bend down and study the skull again. “Simply amazing,” he blinked in awe. “This was someone who must have been as old as me by the time she died. Think about it, John - this is _history_ , and somehow your friend had it stashed under some floorboards somewhere.” He paused. “Why didn’t she just give it to a museum?”

“Because they’d think it was a human skull, and they’ve already got hundred of the things,” he said over his shoulder. “If you hadn’t been there, _I_ would have thought it was human, too.”

“Hmm.” Lucifer’s hand went out and he touched at the surface. Something gave a sharp _click_ , a jab to his fingers. He leapt back. “Ow!” he marvelled in outrage.

John put his hands to the counter, sighing. “What did you touch?” he asked, resigned.

“The skull! And I got a shock!”

“What, like an electric shock?” he asked, turning round to see.

“I guess,” he said. Holding his abused fingers with his other hand, he bent closer to look at it. “I didn’t even pick it up - just touched it.”

John came back over slowly. “Do it again.”

“Get bent. That hurt.”

“But it didn’t harm you, right?”

“Only emotionally.”

“Wuss.”

“Human.”

John rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He came closer.

Lucifer put his arm across him. “If you get hurt we’ll never find the bloody thing.” He waited and John took a step back. “I’m only doing this to find the MacGuffin, not because you’re trying to manipulate me into touching it _for_ you.”

John spread his hands. “Whatever works.”

Lucifer frowned at him. “Kettle.”

John turned as the whistle of a well and truly done kettle began to cut the air. He went back to the stove and turned off the gas, then came straight back to watch Lucifer take off his jacket, lob it at the nearest sofa behind him, and then roll up his sleeves.

“Right,” the Devil said. “Stay behind me. This will be too much for a puny human.”

John folded his arms. “I’m shaking,” he said flatly.

Lucifer stepped closer to the mill stone. He stretched a hand out. He paused. Then he simply slapped it down to cover the crown of the skull.

John tensed. Lucifer did not react. He lifted his hand, then placed it back firmly on the bone. “Uhm…” He swished it side to side over the crown, then picked it up and shook it gently. “It _did_ give me a shock. It _did_.”

“Yeah right,” John said, turning away again.

“I don’t lie, John,” he snapped.

John stopped and then turned back to him. “That’s true,” he mused. He came back to the mill stone. “What about your other hand?”

Lucifer looked at him - just looked. Then he passed it to his left hand. “Nothing.”

“Residual… something?” John offered.

“But it was sitting on _stone_ ,” he said. “How did I get a residual static shock from it?”

“This whole house is weird.”

“So what do we do with this?” Lucifer asked, waving it toward him.

“Give me that before you drop it,” John tutted. His fingers closed on the skull. There was a tiny click and John leapt back a step. “Ow!”

“See?” Lucifer said, raising the skull between them. “I _told_ you!”

“And I believed you!” John spluttered. “Put it down.”

“But—”

“Put it down _now_.”

“Grumpy,” Lucifer accused, but he did place it carefully on the mill stone. “Why is it doing that? You’re supposed to be the mage, you tell me what’s going on.”

John rubbed his fingers thoughtfully. “That wasn’t an electric shock, and it wasn’t a static anything. That was _magic_.”

“Well I agree it was amazing, but—”

“No, I mean it was actual _magick_ , Lucifer, not brilliant.”

“Oh.”

John eyed the skull. “Let me think about this.”

“Tea, then. I’ll have one, thanks. —Sparrow’s gobful of milk, no sugar, and definitely no holy water.”

John huffed, then went over to the kitchenette. Lucifer bent to look at the skull. Eventually, after much tinkering and shuffling, John came back with two mugs of steaming tea. He handed one to Lucifer and they stood and appraised the bone item in front of them.

“How do you reckon a Fury came to be dead in the first place?” John asked quietly.

“I hate to ask,” Lucifer said faintly. “Some god-killing weapon, I assume.”

“I only know of a few of those.”

“Therefore there are a few, at least.”

John sipped his tea. “That was definitely magic. And it definitely did something to me. Like it was looking for something.”

“What do you think it’s looking _for?_ ”

“Marina? Maybe it’s waiting for its owner. Maybe it meant more to her than just being an old Fury skull.”

“Well in its present state it’s a Hell of a paper weight, but that’s all it is,” Lucifer commented. He sipped at his tea a few times.

John finished his tea and shook his head. He set the mug down on the mill stone and then went to the book shelves behind him. He checked all the spines before pulling out a huge tome. Lucifer emptied his mug and picked up John’s, taking them both to the kitchenette out of the way. He came back to find John had spread the book open on the other side of the mill stone to the skull.

“Is it in there?” he asked, surprised.

John paged through, then stopped on one to peer at the words inscribed it what looked like blood in tiny yet beautiful calligraphy. “Not this one, but it does have here something you can do to protect bones that have come from desecrated graves.”

“Ah.” He put his hands in his pockets, stepping back one. “That’s your department.” He looked around again, wandering back around the other side to look at the skull. “I swear it looks like it’s watching me.”

“Maybe it is,” John muttered as he read.

Lucifer waited.

And then he crossed to the sofa and sat.

Then he had a little bit of a nap.

Finally he roused himself and stood up, stretching out and twisting left and right at the waist to make sure he was fully awake. He looked over to find John still standing in much the same position. “Anything?” he called.

“What do you think?” John grumped.

Lucifer walked over, his hands in his pockets, to look over his shoulder. “You could be over-thinking this. I mean, it’s obviously useless _and_ warded. So let’s crack on with finding this MacGuffin, eh?”

John stood upright and closed the book. “You could be right.” He ran his hands through his hair, then went round the mill stone to the skull. “This is going on the shelf and we’re moving on.”

“Back to the forensics lab then? There must be something in your friend’s possessions, something we missed.”

“I went through _everything_ ,” John sighed. “Honestly, she’s the universe’s Hide and Seek champion.”

“Maybe she left a map,” Lucifer said brightly. “You know, like a treasure map.”

John’s head tilted as he slapped the Devil with a look made of two parts reproach and one part disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Humans do it all the time,” he said defensively.

John shook his head. He looked over at the shelves, then back at the skull. “Right. First things first.” He put his hand out and grabbed the skull.

There was a tremendous _crack_ that echoed so loudly even Lucifer flinched. John was lifted off his feet. He flew back through the air inhumanly fast. The far wall behind the sofas interrupted his flight. He bounced off with bone-crunching finality. And then he slammed down into the floorboards.

Lucifer stared in amazement.

His eyes snapped down to the skull, back on the mill stone as if John hadn’t just dropped it. It was now glowing with a deep ruby, ethereal light. A minuscule hum was emanating from every inch of it.

He looked back over at the sofas, obscuring the area John had apparently sunk to.

He clapped his hands. “Well done, John! You got it to work!” he cried with a grin.

There was no answer.

“John?” he hazarded. “Uhm… John?”

 


	6. Guilt Trip Advisor Rating: 1/10, Would Not Recommend

 

 

She sat back from the table, clapping her hands and laughing. “Oh John Constantine - so-called mage and know-it-all,” she chuckled. “You _idiot_. You have no idea what you have there, and as for you, Tall, Dark and Handsome - you’re just as bad. If only I had sound as well, so I could have a _really_ good laugh at your expense.” She shook her head and got to her feet, turning away from the table and the mirror laid upon it. It faced directly up at the ceiling, the events of the mill house continuing without her as witness.

She paced the room slowly, running a hand through her hair as she considered. “So it’s a Calling Card, perhaps, or a clue to the whereabouts. Jesus, Marina - why did you have to make it so hard to find?”

She turned back to the table to look over the mirror. The picture appeared to be fading. She tutted and looked at her hands. “Not enough power today, huh?”

The mirror lost all of its shine, until it was simply a dull reflective surface again.

She huffed. “You know, once I have it… instead of simply destroying it I could swap power sources, maybe charge up a few times using its power instead.” She folded her arms. “ _Once_ I have it.”

She turned away, to the open books behind her.

“Now if I’m not mistaken, that’s one of the Eumenides. So the connection to this thing is…” She gasped and then grinned. “Oh my—. Marina, you evil genius. You and your love of this crappy city.”

She bundled out of the room.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucifer raced across the room to the fallen human. He pulled a sofa out of the way as if it weighed nothing to find John in a crumpled heap against the wall. Crouching in front of him, he hauled him to sit up against the brickwork. He slapped at his face.

“John! John! Open your eyes or something!” He slapped again. John didn’t react. “Oh _balls_ ,” Lucifer spat. “I _knew_ you humans were weak, fragile little meat sacks but I thought you were tougher than this! Chloe would be on her feet by now!” He paused, then shook himself. “Anyway. Come on, John.” He slapped again.

John gasped. His eyes shot open. His left hand came up to try to protect his head from further blows. Lucifer gripped his shoulders to keep him upright.

“That’s right - come to,” Lucifer said. “You’re in one piece, John. At least, I think you are.”

John’s hand fell to Lucifer’s arm and he squeezed. “Where am I?”

“Your mill house.”

“ _Where am I?_ ” he gasped.

Lucifer peered at his face. Pallid, confused, it began to sweat even as John’s eyes ranged right through Lucifer as if he were nothing more than smoke. “John? Can you hear me?” he frowned.

“Where - what’s happening?” he breathed.

Lucifer let a knee collapse to the floor to take his weight. “You touched the skull and it threw you across the room,” he said slowly. “Don’t you remember?”

“I did, I know I did,” John said, his face stricken. His head fell back against the wall, rolling from side to side as he swallowed. “I’m sorry - I’m not done, love. I’m still coming for you - I will get you out, I promise.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer asked.

“I said I would and I am - believe me, pet, I’m coming,” he blurted, his eyes starting to spill water as he squirmed as if in physical pain.

Lucifer waved a palm in front of the human’s face, but John didn’t react. He peered at him, noticed John’s eyes were glassy, unfocused - in a different place. “John?”

“Don’t - don’t do this,” John begged. “I’m coming to get you, Astra - I swear!”

Lucifer let him go. He shot to his feet and his head snapped over to the skull on the table. He looked back down at John as he fell to his side on the floorboards, promising something over and over to a non-existent entity.

The Devil stepped back. He glared at the skull before storming over and stopping just short of picking it up. “You’re in there, aren’t you?” he accused. “You’re still trying to punish people who you think swear false oaths.” He looked over at the human in agony on the floor. “Well you can pack it in right now, because as much of a git as John Constantine is, he doesn’t deserve this.”

He reached out and snatched up the skull. The glow did not stop. The vibration tickled at Lucifer’s skin as he clutched it hard.

“Stop this. Right now.”

The glow and hum continued.

“Do you even know who I am? Which one are you, anyway? Megaera? Alekto? Tisiphone? You’re Alekto, aren’t you - ‘endless’ indeed.” He gripped the skull tighter. “Alekto - you may be a vengeful goddess but your vessel has been reduced to this lowly bone structure. If an _angel_ , made of another _god_ , was to crush it, I wonder what would happen to you? Shall we find out?” He lifted the skull high over his head, searching the floorboards for a good spot.

“Stop!”

He froze. Then his eyes slid upwards and he realised the skull was moving in his hand. He turned and looked over at John, still squirming and moaning in fear, misery - agony. “Why should I? _You_ haven’t,” he snapped.

“I cannot release him,” the skull rasped.

He brought it down to his level. “You _bloody_ liar!” he fumed. “You _can_ , you just _won’t_.” He lifted the skull in his right hand. “If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a _liar!_ ”

“Wait! You will listen to me!”

“ _You_ will be in pieces. That way John will be free.” His shoulder moved, ready to put his back into the smash.

“I beseech you!”

He paused in surprise. “You what?”

“I… beseech you,” was the quiet reply.

“You’re begging now? You, one of the Eumenides, begging me, an angel?” He paused. “Oh this is too good. Just what am I supposed to be waiting for? You’re torturing my friend over there; make this quick.”

“Set me down.”

Lucifer hastily deposited the skull on its side on the mill stone. “Well? Talk.”

“I have no choice in this. I am bound to the skull by evil magic. I can only revenge against the person who holds me.”

“You didn’t do it to me,” Lucifer snapped.

“You have never sworn a false oath.”

“ _Thank_ you,” he said, abruptly well pleased. Then his face dropped. “Wait - how do you know John has?”

“The transfer of truth happens with touch.”

“The static shock thing - got it,” he nodded. “So stop this. Hurry up.”

“I cannot.”

“Then I’ll destroy the skull.”

“That will only leave me uncontained. I will still retain all my powers and your friend will still be under the influence of his own broken promises.”

“Ah - but wait a minute,” he said hastily. “He hasn’t broken a promise yet - he’s just taking his time about making good on it, he says.”

“That one, perhaps… but there are others.”

Lucifer huffed. “How do I get you to stop ‘influencing’ him?”

“I do not know.”

“Well you’re no help!” he growled. He turned back to look at John, then back to the skull. “Can I join him? Wherever he is - can I go there? Talk to him?”

“You… _can_. But I don’t think you want to.”

“You don’t tell _me_ , of _all people_ , what I want to do,” he said haughtily. “If I go there, convince him that he hasn’t broken any promise, won’t that release him from your influence?”

“You do not listen,” the skull snapped. “He has so many falsely-sworn oaths, so many promises made with no intention of their fulfilment. He will _never_ stop paying for them.”

Lucifer stepped back. He ran his hands through his hair, turned around to see John in complete and utter suffering. He felt his hands gripping his hair in frustration. He looked back at the skull. “Then - then - then I’ll stop this some other way! You don’t get to punish him like this! _I_ do the punishing, Alekto - _I_ say who deserves it and who doesn’t!”

“I have done nothing but unlock his false oaths. All of the pain, all of the suffering - that is all from him.”

Lucifer’s hands dropped. He turned again, balled his fists, turned back. “Gah! Think! Think!” he cried, scrubbing at his face. “Hell - Hell does this to people - it’s the same—.” His hands dropped and his head snapped up. “Ah- _hah!_ Send me wherever he is, Alekto. I know how to save him.”

“And do you know how to return to this plane?”

He looked over at the human, then back at the skull. “Yes.”

“Be sure, light-bringer.”

He blinked. And then he let all the tension, all the urgency, flood out through every pore, until all that was left was unshakeable faith. He stood tall. He grinned. “Oh, I am. That’s _exactly_ what I am - the light-bringer. In most cultures, ‘light’ can mean two different things, did you know that? Light - physical, actual relief from darkness - and _truth_. Which, depending how you look at it, is _also_ relief from darkness.” He ran his hands through his hair to put it mostly straight. “So send me to him, Alekto. Now.”

“As you wish.”

He turned to look at John.

The room melted away. Instead he was back home - the grey, washed-out walls, the flakes of ash, the sounds of chains and the screams of the tormented.

He looked around carefully, then down at himself. No ash touched him, no infernal breeze carried the stench of the wretched or the heat of punishment. He looked up in wonder. “This is all in his head,” he marvelled. “He _has_ been here before - many times I should think, if his memory of Hell is this accurate.” He shook himself and then turned to his left. “John!” he shouted. “John Constantine! Where are you!”

He whipped to his right as some idea, some feeling pulled at him. He put a foot out and began to walk, pausing to check all the gaps in all the doors as he went.

“John! It’s Lucifer! Where are you!” Nothing answered him as he continued down the endless labyrinth of doors and chains. He paused and looked back, then around. “I’m going about this the wrong way, obviously.” He put his hands on his hips, thinking furiously. “What name did he say? What was it?” He leant a hand against the wall, thinking back to John’s ramblings. “Oh! Astra!” He stood up straight. “Astra!” He cupped his hands round his mouth and drew in a tremendous breath. “ASTRA!”

Every particle of everything around him shivered at his voice. It permeated every shade of existence. The walls appeared to ripple just slightly as the sound went backwards and forwards.

Except for one, tiny part. One infinitesimal chink in the Hellishness did not produce any kind of response. Dead space, an impossible refusal to behave as the plane should, made him turn to his right again. He squared his shoulders. “Gotcha,” he snapped. He hurried forward, stepping over chains, rocks, broken landscape.

He stopped at a door. His hand went to the handle and he simply pushed it open. It flew wide and stayed right out of his way, knowing better than to bounce back into him.

Lucifer walked in to find John kneeling in misery, his hands out in surrender, in begging, toward a young girl standing not six feet from him.

Behind her was a queue. People of all shapes and sizes were waiting impatiently, arms crossed, for their turn in her place. Her hands stretching to John in pain, she begged and sobbed for release.

Lucifer stepped back one, taking in the endless line of people, the pure relentless torture of her agony directed at John alone. Then he walked directly into her line of sight, planting himself in between her and a grimy, agonised John covered in sweat, guilt, and tears.

“Well this won’t do,” Lucifer tutted. “John, darling, get over yourself.”

John paused. He raised his eyes to see not Astra, but the tall form of the Devil in his way. “What—?”

“Yes, it’s me. You know who I am. The question is, who are you?”

John took a breath. “What?”

“Listen to me, John. You’ve done a lot of pretty crappy things to a lot of people. I mean, there’s a queue behind me longer than that of an Adele concert. But it’s not who are you, mate.”

John dashed a hand against his face in an attempt to dry it somewhat. “But… Astra—”

“Yes, and that’s clearly regrettable,” he interrupted. “I don’t understand, but that’s irrelevant. What _you_ need to understand is that you may have failed to save these people, or whatever it is you’re punishing yourself for. But it’s not who you are. You _help_ people, John. You _save_ people. You cannot save them all, but that’s beside the point; not leaving someone to their fate is who you are, much as you don’t want it to be. This is why you can be so easily manipulated by your own guilt, why you even _have_ guilt. Do you understand? _Only salvageable people have guilt_.”

John looked at his hands, fallen to his folded legs. He sat back on his heels. His head rocked back on his neck to look up Lucifer. “There are so many.”

“Yes, there are. But weigh that against how many you’ve helped. Because if the number you’ve helped or saved is even one more than how many you’ve hurt, where does that leave you?”

John’s head sank. “Deserving all of this.”

“No, John,” Lucifer snapped. He crouched and grabbed his shoulder. “You know who I am. You know what I do. Did I decide to punish you the moment we met? No. Do you want to know why?”

“No.”

“Shut up. It was because human lives are cheques and balances, John. They’re not chalk marks of wrong-doings with no record of the good deeds. Of course you’re known to me, John Constantine. Of course I know how you’ve lied and manipulated and schemed and saved your own neck, so many times,” he said. John looked at him with a tired smile. Lucifer squeezed at his shoulder. “But that ruthlessness, that voracious desire to win, to do what you must - you use that more for others than yourself, John. You always have. And so, _on balance_ , you don’t deserve this. You need to keep this guilt, need to let it keep you on the good side of things. You will never be free of it, you know you won’t. But if you were, you wouldn’t be as driven to save people. You wouldn’t be any good to anyone.”

“But… Astra—”

“It keeps coming back to this,” Lucifer huffed. “Alright, fine. What did you do?”

“I… There was a demon. So I… I summoned another one to fight it. And it did - it won, my gamble worked. But it took Astra too.”

“So you saved how many people when you lost one?”

“What?” He looked up, confused.

“I mean I assume this was in a city or something?”

“Yes. A big one.”

“And if the original demon had got out, had spread and done its worst - how many would have died or been imprisoned here?”

“Uh…”

“A lot more than one. Yes, Astra being stuck down here is terrible. Yes, it’s the worst thing that could have happened to _her_. But it’s not the worst thing that could have happened that day.”

“You bastard!” John growled, reaching for his neck. Lucifer gripped his wrists in a lightning move that took the human by surprise. Fresh tears spilled as the anger came to his face. “You _bastard!_ You’re saying it’s ok she’s here as long as everyone else - including me - was saved!”

“No, John,” he said slowly, calmly. “I’m saying it’s unconscionable, it’s awful, and it will never be ok. But at the same time, the fact that so many people were saved _is_ ok.”

John let the anger go. “It should have been me. She should have been saved, and it should have been me.”

“Then who would have helped so many people since?”

John yanked at his arms. Lucifer released his wrists but waited, his elbows on his knees as he continued to crouch.

A girl’s voice tried to interrupt them. Lucifer swayed to look over his shoulder. “Oh give it a rest, love,” he snapped. “You’re not even real.”

John blinked. He looked up again. “What?”

“She’s not real, John. This isn’t really Hell - trust me, I’ve spent a lot of time there and this is nowhere near the same thing.”

“But…”

“You’re not dead, your soul is not down here - you’re actually in a heap in the corner of your mill house and I’ve come here to get you out of the torture that Alekto’s skull has kicked off in your tiny human brain.”

“Who?”

“Exactly.” He put his hand back on John’s shoulder. “Now are we leaving here or what? Because if you’re trapped here, then so am I. And that’s just rude.”

“What?” John asked, indignation beginning to colour his tone.

Lucifer smiled. “Yes, John. My fate is tied to yours at the moment. So if you want to punish yourself by crying over the original spilt milk when you’ve spent so many years mopping up other people’s, then by all means fill your boots. But staying here to wallow in guilt and self-pity will also condemn _me_ to the same thing. And no offence, but I have no intention of watching _your_ Hell play out over and over. So get over yourself and get us _both_ out of here.”

“You…” John put his hands to his face, scrubbing at it with fierce determination. “You manipulative wanker!”

Lucifer grinned. “See? Only good people know that’s not a choice.”

“Now listen here, you little shit—” John seethed.

Lucifer stood up. “And my work here is done.” He let his hands slide into his trouser pockets. “Now, get us out of here.”

John got to his feet. He jabbed a finger into Lucifer’s chest. “It’s not that simple, Sunshine. What about all the people I’ve let down in my life?”

Lucifer lifted a hand, took John’s wrist, and flicked it free of him. “What people?” he asked innocently.

“What people, he says,” John growled. He pushed him round. “All _those_ pe—.” He stopped dead, finding the queue of faces had disappeared. “What’s going on?”

Instead there was only the girl, watching now, her hands clasped in front of her. “You promised you’d come for me,” she said evenly. Lucifer stepped to one side, watching.

“Yeah,” John managed. “And I will, love.”

“Then we have hope,” she said simply. “Just ask the skull.”

And then she was gone.

John stared. He looked around the room, finding it empty save himself and the Devil. He raised his head but had no words.

Lucifer nodded.

John scratched at the back of his head, then took a deep breath.

And opened his eyes to find himself lying on a floor made of wood. His head swam, his shoulder ached of recent whumpage. He put his hands to the floorboards and pushed himself up to sit.

The mill house greeted him with its familiar, warm smell of home. The gentle gloom welcomed him back, the sound of shoes on wood made him look to his right. He swayed dangerously with disorientation.

Lucifer crouched down and put a hand out. John looked at it, shook his head as if to clear it, and then grabbed at the wrist. Lucifer pulled and John pushed, and between them they had him on his feet.

“Better?” asked Lucifer quietly.

John stumbled on weak legs. Lucifer grabbed his arm hastily. John flailed and his free hand went to the taller man’s arm to hang on for dear life. “Thanks.”

“You’re… very welcome, John.”

John’s grip did not lessen. Lucifer waited, but the shorter man simply held on. “You _know_ , don’t you?” John asked, his head down.

“What? What’s it like to be down there at the mercy of your own guilt? Yes, I’m afraid I’ve had that rather unpleasant experience.”

“So everything you said down there—”

“You mean in your head, which _thought_ it was down there.”

John looked up at him. “That. Everything you said - did you believe that?”

“I don’t lie.”

John smiled in relief. “Yeah, I’m getting that.” He eased him back, clapping his hands to his upper arms in gratitude. “Well. Yeah.”

Lucifer’s eyes ran down his face, then up again. “Are you quite sure you’re ok? I can think of ways to make you feel better,” he said slyly.

John’s hands sprang off him and he took a step back. “Just grateful is all, mate.”

“Admit it, John, you’re thinking about it,” Lucifer winked. “I mean, anyone _would_.”

“We have things to do,” he said professionally.

“Yes we do, don’t we?” Lucifer said, much more seriously. He turned away, going back to the mill stone and studying the skull still on its side.

John watched him go, then tore his eyes away and shook his head, scrubbing at his face hurriedly. He swallowed and then crossed to be next to him. “Well? What did we get from it?”

“It’s… inert,” Lucifer said. He put a hand out.

John grabbed his wrist. “Are you insane?”

“It doesn’t work on me,” Lucifer said. “Alekto said so.”

“And you trust it?”

“She doesn’t lie either, John.” He waited. And waited. “You can let go if you like.”

John’s hand released him. “Well I’m not touching that thing again. So where do we go from here? If that isn’t the key to this whole thing, we’ve wasted this entire day.”

“She told you the key,” Lucifer said, surprised.

“Who did?”

“Your mind’s manifestation of Astra.”

“When?”

“Her last words to you, John.”

He frowned. “She said she had hope. That _we_ have hope. That was all.”

“Well you obviously missed the next bit - honestly, you humans and your inability to get past emotions.”

“Well?” John demanded.

“She said ‘just ask the skull’.”

“No - she meant it was something to do with hope, like this whole chain of events that’s brought the skull back to life.” He paused, noticing Lucifer’s frown of disbelief. He shrugged. “Y’know, like a… a kind of ‘you never know what might happen’ thing, so… there’s still hope. Right?” He sniffed. “No?”

“No,” Lucifer said with ultimate dismissal. “She literally meant _ask the skull_ , John.”

“Well how do you know?”

Lucifer put his hand out again and picked up the skull. The jaw moved slightly and the glow came back to its surface. “Me again, Alekto,” he said cheerfully.

“You made it back,” the skull said.

“Told you I would,” Lucifer grinned. “So anyway, John’s manifestation of guilt seems to think that you know where Marina, your old curator who is now dead, hid the MacGuffin we need to find.”

The jawbone moved slightly. Then it just tilted open.

John shook his head. “What he means, love,” he said, bending nearer to the skull whilst being careful not to touch it, “is that we’re looking for the thing that you were being used to protect.” He paused as the jaw began to close.

“Yes, that - can you tell us where it is?” Lucifer asked.

“And don’t say Greece,” John said.

The jaw moved again in Lucifer’s palm. “Greece.”

“Bollocks,” John sighed.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Lucifer said, annoyed. “If her skull is here in Atlanta why would this MacGuffin be so far away?”

“It’s probably with the rest of this Alekto’s body.”

“And why would the rest of her body still be in Greece?”

“Well when you rob graves you typically take the easiest things to carry, or those of significance. And I don’t think bundling an entire skeleton into a bag is worth the Customs problems at any border.”

“‘When’ you rob graves?” Lucifer pressed.

John waved a hand at him. “Focus, Lucifer. Her remains.”

“Not focused enough, John; maybe it’s Greece.”

“What do you mean?”

“Details. After all, the Devil _is_ in the details,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Well of course I am! You’ve seen where I used to work. This is _much_ more fun,” he teased. John’s face blanked of colour. Lucifer cleared his throat. “Anyway, changing the subject - would you have a map?”

“Of Europe?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucifer snorted. “Greece is on Martin Luther King Drive - South East.”

John looked at him - just looked.

“Honestly, John,” he scoffed. “I’ve only been to this city a few times in this life, and even _I_ know where to find the real Greece.”

 


	7. Raiders of the Lost Park

 

 

Detective Nugent sat back in her chair, her eyes scanning the papers scattered across her desk over and over. Eventually she packed them up and reached to pick up the phone receiver.

“Uh - Detective?” came a voice.

She turned and looked up into the face of Tanya Lee. “Hi. Something in forensics you want me to see?”

“Kinda,” she said, with a huge degree of discomfort. Her eyes darted to an open office door behind Nugent. “Can we talk?”

“Ok, you got me intrigued.” Nugent pushed back her chair and turned for the office, hearing Tanya follow her inside.

The forensics officer shut the door and put her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. “Uh… So that British guy that came in - the one with the trenchcoat.”

“British Trenchcoat? He was here?” Nugent asked, surprised. “I asked him to make a statement but he never turned up. Friend of the deceased.”

“Yeah, so… he came in and asked to go through Morello’s things. I let him, because he said you’d given permission - and quite frankly we’re still not sure what half of it is and I thought he might.”

Nugent cleared her throat quietly. “Yes, I did.”

“Well he went in to look at some stuff. When I came in the next morning, this lady came in saying she was looking for a dead body - _his_ dead body.”

“What? Why would she say that? —Wait, was it _there?_ ” she demanded.

“No! I just told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. But it’s been bothering me all day, I mean… He was a friend of the deceased, and now this other woman turns up saying he should be dead too.” She paused. “I should have come to you yesterday. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you should - but you’re here now.” Nugent huffed. “Can you go through mugshots, identify this British guy?”

“I don’t need to do that,” Tanya said dismissively. She pulled her right hand out of her coat pocket to brandish something small and white. “I have his name card.”

Nugent smiled and took it from her. “Well well well,” she said, reading it carefully. “John Constantine, eh?”

“Do you know him?” Tanya asked.

“Only too well - by reputation, anyway.” She looked at her. “This makes everything easier.” She opened the office door and walked back to her desk.

Tanya trailed after her. “How?”

Nugent picked up the receiver and dialled quickly. “Yeah, hi. Detective Peony Nugent. Yes. I need a warrant for an arrest, please. Yes. Can you start setting it up while I bring down the paperwork? Oh I have good cause, trust me. The name? John Constantine. —Yes, _that_ John Constantine. Thanks, Chuck.” She put the phone down.

“But… he seems really nice,” Tanya said, shocked. “What has he done?”

“Appeared at a crime scene, was close to the deceased, came to the forensics lab to rifle through her personal effects,” Nugent rattled off.

“Is any of that a crime?” Tanya asked cluelessly.

“It is when he’s John friggin’ Constantine. The man has a file taller than my coffee cup - my _travel_ cup,” she said, opening up drawers and finding her gun in its holster. She fixed it to the back of her belt. “You may have settled this case, Tanya - thanks.”

“But - why would the woman want him dead? Maybe _she_ killed the deceased and he’s next.”

“Creative,” Nugent nodded. “Keep reading sci-fi, honey. Leave the police work to those of us trained in it.”

Tanya folded her arms and watched as Nugent swept out of the open plan office. She thought hard for a moment. And then she headed back to the forensics lab as fast as she could.

 

ooOoo

 

The nondescript sedan pulled up at the pavement, allowing Alina Harvey-Pendry to look out of the open window. The front of the restaurant proclaimed ‘ _Nick’s Food To Go_ ’ in large neons. She smiled and got out of the car, locking it up before crossing to the front door.

Walking inside, she took in the chairs and tables, the people already ordering late afternoon lunch as they smiled and chatted. She flicked hair over her shoulder and straightened her shirt, going to the counter that doubled as the bar.

“Hi, afternoon,” said a bright smile of a young man. “What can I get for you today?”

“What’s good?” She catalogued his below average height, his dark hair, his happy eyes.

“Are you taking away today or do you want to stay?”

“I think… I’ll have to take away, I’m afraid.”

“That’s too bad - we always have a seat for you, madam,” he smiled.

“Maybe later,” she said. “So, take out?”

“Yeah - we got Chef Helen’s pastitsio, or fresh hummus with sides,” he said. “Or we got gyros for you - pork, lamb, beef, fried chicken, or all-vegetarian. What kind of thing would you like?”

She looked past his left shoulder to look at the specials board - and then froze. “Well I’ll be—.” She slapped her mouth shut and looked at him. “I’ll take a fried chicken gyro.”

“We can add fries and a Coke on that for you for an extra two dollars fifty,” he offered.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He pushed buttons on the till and then turned to shout across the kitchen behind him, obscured by cooling racks and serving utensils.

She pulled glasses out of her inside pocket and slipped them on to read the sign by the specials. She grinned, then took them off again.

She paid for the wrap. She pulled her smartphone from her pocket and opened the web browser. She searched.

 

ooOoo

 

The door to the forensics lab opened and Tanya burst in, making the only other officer in there jump. “Woah,” he managed, watching her go straight to the pile of paperwork on her side of the room and begin to rifle through. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

She didn’t even spare him a glance. “The list of things from that dead woman. Where is it?”

“Clipboard’s still on the wall,” he said, gesturing to the blue item far to their right.

She went straight over to it and snatched it from its peg, ripping through the inventory on it.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” he asked innocently.

“Whatever John took with him when he left.”

“Who’s John?”

“A suspect - except he shouldn’t be because I don’t think he’s done anything wrong.”

“But you just said he took evidence from us.”

“Not to steal it - I think he’s trying to stay alive.”

“Aren’t we all?” he asked. “I mean, last week I joined a gym because I went to my doctor with like an achey shoulder, and she gave me this lecture about motion and looking after myself, because she thinks I’m on my feet all day and I don’t actually stretch enough, and like—”

“One of these things is not like the others,” she muttered to herself. “Can you tell me which one it is?” She continued to read the paper as she pushed through the long plastic flaps, into the room of evidence lockers.

“Sesame Street,” he nodded. “Groovy.”

ooOoo

 

John pushed open the door, walking into the restaurant. He was greeted by the sight of a cheerful young man behind a counter, who waited for Lucifer to appear after him.

“Right, here we go,” Lucifer announced, clapping his hands together and giving them a good rub. “What’ll you have, John? I’m quite partial to pastitsio myself.”

“We’re not here to eat, Lucifer,” John tutted.

“We can eat _and_ solve a case,” he argued. He went to the counter and leant an elbow on it. “Afternoon, my good man. We’ll have two lots of pastitsio please, take-out.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Any drinks at all?”

“Don’t do gin and tonic, do you?” Lucifer hazarded. “I think my friend here needs one.”

“I do not,” John said, barely keeping the irritation out of his voice.

“Really, it’s fine if you do,” Lucifer said. “I mean you’ve had a very bad day so far, John. Anyone would need a good stiff one after all that.” He paused. “— _And_ a drink,” he grinned. The man behind the counter snorted in amusement, then attempted to hide it. Lucifer turned to look at him, avoiding John’s angry scowl directed his way. “I think we’ll just take the food, thanks,” the Devil added with a wink.

“That’s fifteen dollars, sir,” he said.

Lucifer produced his wallet, even as John began to peer around the open restaurant to their left. The transaction completed behind him, he turned back to see the young server go around the cooling racks to talk to the kitchen staff.

His eyes went over the serving area - and then tripped over a sign by the specials board. He grinned, and his hand went out to slap into Lucifer’s arm.

Lucifer looked down at the offending limb, then at John. “What?”

“Look. Up there,” he said, gesturing with his chin.

Lucifer looked up - and blinked. “Oh. Well.”

“Yeah. Maybe this _was_ the right place after all.” He pulled out his mobile phone, tapping at things with his thumb.

“I _told_ you,” Lucifer said. “But why would a place like this have a sign up there written in Enochian?”

The young server looked up from his busy sorting of a paper take-out bag and utensils. “Oh, that was a gift, sir. A young lady comes in here sometimes - very superstitious. Once day she gave us the sign to protect us. We don’t really know why, but we’ll take it,” he smiled.

Lucifer and John exchanged a glance.

“And tell me,” Lucifer said slowly, “is any one of you able to read it?”

“Not a one,” the man smiled. “We thought maybe it was from _Lord of the Rings_ or something.”

“Oh believe me, it’s not Elvish,” John said. “That’s Enochian, mate. The language of the angels.”

“Really?” the man said. “Cool. Can _you_ read it?”

“Not without my dictionary,” John said with a smile. “But there’s an app for that.”

He raised his phone but Lucifer put his hand out, guiding it down again. “Really, John. It’s like you’ve forgotten who I am.” He looked up at the board. “‘The grass may be greener on the other side, but this is where your roots are’.”

“That’s what it says?” the man asked.

“Pretty much,” Lucifer shrugged. He looked at John. “Well? Where does that lead us?”

“Who knows?” he grumbled. “Couldn’t she have just said ‘X marks the spot’?”

“Is this a treasure hunt?” the server asked.

Lucifer gave a winning smile. “Something like that, yes.”

“We did one last year - team building,” he nodded. “If that’s a clue then… Pleasance Park.”

“What?” John asked.

“Pleasance Park. The grass is always greener on the other side? The lawns were re-seeded just last spring - one side is always brown. They planted trees to cover it up, maybe help it recover. So one side is greener, but the other has tree roots.” He shrugged. “I reckon that’s your answer right there.”

Lucifer laughed out loud. “Splendid! Thank you _ever_ so much, er…?”

“Kyrie,” he said.

“Kyrie, eh?” Lucifer asked. His eyebrows leapt so far up his forehead they were in danger of falling over the back. “Greek for ‘the Lord’?”

“Yes sir,” Kyrie grinned. “You know your Greek.”

“A little. Thanks for your help, Kyrie.”

“And thank you for your custom, sir,” he beamed. He turned to the chutes behind him and picked up the two waxed card boxes, sliding them into small paper slings before setting them in the take-out bag. He dropped in napkins and forks. “That’s everything - please come again.”

“Oh I might just do that,” Lucifer said, picking up the paper handles and whisking it off the counter.

John was already at the door. “Thanks, mate,” he said. “You’ve been a big help.”

“Not at all, sir,” Kyrie said. “Good luck!”

Lucifer strode out of the door, the food bag banging about as he made for the blue truck at the side of the road.

John went around and grabbed the door handle, pulling it open and climbing in. Lucifer piled in the driver’s side and handed the take-out bag to him.

John wasted no time opening it up and going for one of the boxes and a fork as Lucifer started the truck. “So, Pleasance Park, is it?” he asked.

“Go, and don’t spare the horses,” John said, before stabbing the fork into a gooey, hot mess of cheese.

Lucifer smiled. “See? Easy,” he said, pulling away from the kerb.

 

ooOoo

 

This time the nondescript sedan pulled pulled up by the entrance to the park. Alina peered through the open gates before climbing out of the car and crossing to the welcome and information sign. She read it carefully, then folded her arms and looked around. “Where would you hide it?” she asked herself.

Walking backwards, she took in the entire sight of the perfectly green, lush grass to her left, and the odd line of trees, some only a few years old, separating that from the somewhat brown lawn to the right. She frowned, then walked toward the trees and the brown side.

“They reseeded this place a few years back, and _still_ this side grows brown,” she mused. “Let me guess what could be causing _that_.” She scrutinised the brown as she walked very slowly over the surface, her eyes sweeping left and right in desperation. After a full two minutes, she turned and began again, over a larger patch to her left.

Finally she stood back, scraped her long hair from her face, and looked up at the clouds. A few minutes went by before she cleared her throat and spread her hands.

She began to mutter. A soft breeze pushed at her hair, the grass, the trees to her left. Gathering strength, it began to whirl and pick up leaves and twigs. Still she muttered, still she concentrated.

At last she smiled and clapped her hands together. The wind ceased with a sudden _pop_ ; leaves and matter dropped to the grass.

And a light glow lit up the base of one of the trees.

She went back to the car for a shovel.

 

ooOoo

 

“Well here we are,” Lucifer announced. He brought the truck to a stop and he and John looked out at the park just over the concrete parking bumps nearly under the front tyres. “Now hand over the pastitsio and I’ll show you a vanishing trick.”

“Bloody hell,” John cursed, scrambling for the door handle.

“What?”

“That bird - she’s over there! She must have got to it first!” He leapt out of the truck and raced around the bonnet.

Lucifer slid out of the truck but as John went to pass him, simply stretched out a hand and clamped it down hard on his shoulder. The human was stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait,” he said, not letting go. “We don’t want to alarm her. Besides, she can finish the dirty work in digging it up for us and _then_ we take it from her.”

“You don’t understand,” John said. He turned, knocking Lucifer’s hand from him. “I’m not even sure that’s what I think it is. If it _is_ , then she’ll be holding a weapon of unimaginable power. If I’m wrong, she could _still_ be holding a weapon of unimaginable power - just a different one. There’s a reason Marina led us a merry dance to find the sodding thing.”

Lucifer put his hands in his pockets. “You keep forgetting who I am, John. She can’t harm _me_ with it.”

“And what about everyone else?” he demanded.

Lucifer opened his mouth but John turned and began to cross the grass at speed. The Devil jerked in realisation and ran after him.

“Oi, you there!” John called.

Alina scraped soil to one side in the tidy hole she had made beside the tree. She looked up as her fingers connected with something. “Not you again,” she spat. “Why are you not dead?”

“Friends in low places,” John snapped. “Now get back from there and leave whatever that is in that hole.”

“Screw you!” She got to her feet to show a grubby wooden box in her hands. She shook it quickly to get the dirt off, revealing all manner of sigils and markings criss-crossing the entire outside.

“Oooh look at that,” Lucifer managed. He came to a stop next to John. “Seems awfully important.”

“And John’s sidekick. How nice,” she said. She ripped the box open and grabbed something from inside. “Now I’ll just get rid of you both, use this to replace my current power source, and decide what to do with it next.”

“No! Destroy it! Destroy it _now!_ ” John snapped.

“ _After_ I’m done with it,” she smiled. She dropped the box and lifted what appeared to be a metal ball, roughly the size of a tennis ball. “Now then. Let me see.”

“Oh bollocks,” Lucifer said, his shoulders sagging.

“What?” John blurted.

“That’s a Hand of God.”

John’s mouth fell open. “Christ on a bike!”

Lucifer’s hand clamped over his heart as his head whipped around to search the park in panic. “Where?”

John looked at him before slapping him in the shoulder. Lucifer swallowed and pretended to be perfectly at ease. “Um - what?”

“A Hand of God?” John demanded.

“I’d recognise it anywhere. It’s one of the cast-offs that Dad entrusted to Yours Truly - it’s supposed to be in a strongbox in Hell.”

“Then why isn’t it?” John snapped.

“I’m guessing a demon let it out. Some of them are right treacherous buggers.” He cleared his throat, even as Alina began to mutter something. “Do us all a favour, darling - hand that over,” he called.

Alina ignored him.

Lucifer looked at John. “What’s she doing?”

“Using it!” he cried in anger.

They looked at each other. And then they leapt across the grass at her. Their hands reached for her - aimed for her - streaked toward her shoulders.

Until both men were propelled backwards across the grass as if swatted with a giant frying pan.

Rolling to a stop, John scrambled to his feet first. “Sodding hell.”

Lucifer got up and dusted himself down. “How very dare you!”

“Stop her!” John cried.

Again they raced to grab hold of the ball in her hand. This time she raised her other one and sent them tumbling end over end to land in the grass.

“How is she so powerful?” Lucifer panted, getting right side up and finding himself on his back, his elbows in the grass. “She hasn’t even opened it yet.”

“It opens?” John groaned from somewhere to his left.

“Well yes. That’s just the stylish carry case.”

“Then stop her!”

“I would if she weren’t so powerful!” Lucifer shot back. “Who the bloody hell is this woman?”

“She’s not a mage, and she’s not a wizard - although she thinks she is,” John said. He found his feet. “My best guess? She’s a witch.”

“Witches don’t do this!”

“No - a black witch. Not your normal friendly kind.”

“A black one?” Lucifer said. “What’s that?”

“ _Je_ sus,” John heaved in irritation.

Lucifer looked around hastily, then paused to think. He shook a finger at him. “Ah now you _nearly_ had me that time,” he said. “Explain what you mean by black witches.”

“Black - as in ‘black magic’?” John prompted. “As in ‘gets their power from deals with demons’?”

“Ohhh! _That_ ‘black witches’!” Lucifer said. “Well why didn’t you say, darling?” He climbed to his feet, flicked his jacket straight, and did up the single button. He walked calmly toward her, one hand going up to straighten his hair out. “I say! Coo-ee!” he called.

She ignored him. Her hand raised the ball slightly - her other came across as if to take hold of the top.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Lucifer called.

Now she opened her eyes and slapped her full gaze on him. Her empty hand opened and flicked toward him as she cursed something.

Wind pummelled at him. He simply put his palm up. He stood firm but the wind forced his polished shoes to slide back a few feet through the grass.

But then it was gone, split around him and on its way. “Now stop this,” Lucifer said with the smile of a shark that can smell blood. “We can all still laugh this off.”

John edged to one side. He crept closer. His hands balled, then rolled gracefully open as he raised them at her. He began to recite something under his breath.

Alina looked at the pair of them. “You two are pathetic,” she hissed. “I’m more powerful than you both put together - _and now_ I have this Hand of God, there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

Her hand flew round in a circle - then flicked out at John. He was pushed off his feet. He flew through the air and landed unceremoniously against the base of a tree.

Lucifer turned just in time to see him hit the bark. His head whipped round to allow him to glare at her. “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he said, has voice dark.

“Oh I’ll do a lot more!” she seethed. Her hand flicked at him.

This time his hand went out straight - then whipped round in its own arc. The wind was simply wound round and round by his palm before being expelled harmlessly straight up.

“No! You don’t have that kind of power!” she snarled. “No-one does!”

“John here says you get your power from Hell,” Lucifer said, his voice cold. “You’re just a jumped-up Hell bitch - and you don’t even know it.”

“No-one orders me around!”

“ _Au contraire_ ,” Lucifer snapped. “When you steal Hell’s cable you don’t get the channels _you_ want - you get what _they_ send.”

“Bullshit!”

“No really - you work for Hell. Which means, my dear—” He lunged forward and simply grabbed the ball. His other hand wrapped round her throat. He squeezed. “Your boss is _in_.”

“No!” she raged. Her hands grabbed for his wrist. “You can’t do this!”

He raised her off her feet. She kicked and struggled even as he looked to his left. John was getting rather groggily to his hands and knees. “John!” he called. “Think fast!” He slewed his arm round his own back to hurl the ball toward him.

John staggered but raced toward the ball as it fell in the grass short of his feet. He snatched it up. “Got it!”

Lucifer turned his attention on Alina. “Now then. About that poor woman you killed.”

“Marina wasn’t the first,” she rasped. “I had to go through three wizards to get that!”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “You killed three people? To find what, a musty old tennis ball that my father happened to touch? Why?”

“The power! I can charge up on that and never have to resort to black magic again - and have more power than ever!”

“That reminds me - I really should get a message to Rubicante and get her to turn off the Dark Power connection down there,” he mused.

“Don’t try to confuse me with your ramblings!” she snapped. “I _will_ get free. You _will_ be destroyed!”

“Oh I’m sorry, I still haven’t introduced myself, have I? How rude of me.” He yanked her down to eye level. “The name’s Morningstar,” he said. His eyes blazed red. “ _Lucifer_ Morningstar.”

She stopped her struggling. She gaped. “No,” she whispered.

“Oh yes,” he said, his voice dripping with honey. “Not only have you killed three humans over a sacred tennis ball, but you’ve used black magic to do it - knowing that someone had stolen from my odds and sods cupboard. That not only makes me wonder which of the little demons down there connected you to Hell’s power supply in the first place, it also… irks me. I mean, if there’s one person you don’t try to use Hell’s power on, it’s _me_.”

“You can’t have it,” she spluttered. “You’ll never get to use it!”

“Use it? My dear deranged psychopath - I don’t want to _use_ it. I came here with John to get it before you so that we can destroy it. And now _we_ have it, that’s what we’ll do.”

She laughed suddenly. His head tilted in confusion. “You have it, do you?” she grinned.

“Well yes. Clearly.”

“If you have it,” she rasped, her hands now firmly around his wrist, “then where is it? And _where’s John?_ ”

Lucifer’s head snapped round. All he saw was the lawn, the parking spot by the pavement lit by a strange, soft almost-glow of blue and red - otherwise empty. He scowled to himself before he looked back at her. “You still have to be punished,” he said. “How do you want it? A few millennia of unending agony or just a few hundreds years before blissful oblivion?”

She giggled. “Good luck with that.” She shoved at him but he remained firm.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he sneered, his eyes glowing red once again.

“Ok, how about this?” And then she leant her head back and screamed. “Help! Help! Somebody help me!”

“Ok mister, just let her go!” came a shout from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to see a ring of police officers pointing guns at him, the soft blue-red glow behind them now much stronger. His eyes darted past them to realise it was patrol cars with their lights on.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” he sighed. “Where did all of you come from?”

“Help me!” she shrieked.

Lucifer tutted and turned to the officers. “Right then - you can arrest her now.”

“Sir - let the woman go and put your hands behind your head!” shouted the tallest woman amongst them.

“What?” Lucifer asked, appearing pretty clueless. “She’s your murderer - the woman a few days back? Marina Morello? This woman here killed her.”

“Sir - let her _go_ ,” the officer warned.

“Fine!” He simply opened his hand. Alina plummeted to the grass. She began to sob in earnest. “Give it up - this isn’t the Oscar committee,” he said in disgust.

“Sir, put your hands behind your head,” the woman shouted. “Now.”

“Only if you arrest her too,” he said, his hands going in his trousers pockets.

“Sir! Now!” the officer shouted.

“Shan’t,” he said. He turned and reached for Alina.

“Sir - we will shoot you!” she warned.

“Yeah? Go ahead,” Lucifer said. He flashed red eyes at Alina, who stopped sobbing in a heartbeat. Instead she tried to get her feet under her. “No you don’t,” he said, reaching for her arm.

A shot rang out. Something slapped him in the leg. He looked down and simply brushed at the area, but the bullet had already _ping_ ed off him and landed somewhere in the grass.

“There’s no need for that,” he said. “Just get Detective Nugent on the phone and tell her I have the killer she was looking for.” He grabbed her arm and yanked Alina to her feet. “It’s ok - Peony and I go way back. Well, exactly how _far_ back would be telling, and I don’t kiss and tell, so…” He paused. “Well? Chop chop,” he added. The officer’s mouth worked but nothing came out. Lucifer stepped forward, dragging a reluctant Alina by the arm. “Who’s going to give us a ride to the station? I do love a good ride,” he beamed.

The police officers looked at each other. “You… _want_ to go to the station?” the tallest officer dared.

“Well of course! Blimey - not very quick on the uptake out here, are you?” he protested. “Which car? And who’s going to cuff her? Be careful - she’s a black witch and she’s very upset right now.”

“Uh - Hawkes, Osborne - get her in the car,” the officer said, as if surprised she were even speaking. “And… you sir - other car.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, apparently well pleased.

Officers helped bundle Alina into one patrol car, her hands cuffed to the grill between driver and rear seat, as Lucifer climbed into the driver’s seat of another patrol vehicle.

“Well? All aboard,” he announced, and a female officer hurried to the driver’s door. “The other side, love,” he said patiently.

“But—”

“Come on, we don’t have all night.” He started the engine as she ran around to climb in the passenger side. “Now then. Let’s get to the station. I can’t _wait_ to see Detective Nugent’s face.”

 


	8. Parks and Re-Creation

 

 

The mill house was relieved, but still a little wary, to see John Constantine unlock its front door, go along the landing, and then make his way down the metal staircase.

He came to the bottom and looked around. Finding it completely empty of people, friendly or otherwise, he wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. He carried his trenchcoat in one hand and the metal ball in the other to the mill stone, whereupon he plonked them down on the adopted table and himself on a stool nearby.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this,” he sighed, before scrubbing his hands over his face and then through his hair. He pulled his coat over to him and fished in the pocket for his packet of Silk Cut and his Zippo, successfully lighting one up and blowing out a long, relaxing stream of smoke.

He sat. He finished the cigarette. And then he picked up the ball and studied it. He turned it this way and that, looking at the finish that appeared to be polished with tiny scratches. His other hand came up and he opened the lid very, _very_ slowly.

He peered inside, holding his breath.

“Oh,” he blinked.

Inside was a small rock, roughly the size of his lighter. His fingers went toward it - and then pulled back hastily. He wagged his finger at it ruefully.

“Maybe not,” he said. He snapped the lid shut and twisted on his stool, looking around the shelves behind him. He got up and found a gap in the various knick-knacks and bibelots spread between the wooden hidey-holes. Pulling out a small, square box, he dropped it inside and then put it on the shelf.

He stood back. He studied it, his head tilted to one side. And then he picked it up again.

 

ooOoo

 

Lucifer strode through the police station with his customary air of ownership, pulling a shirt cuff straight as he stopped by the booking desk. He looked around to find Detective Nugent and the uniformed officers were still by the entrance.

“I’m sorry, is me bringing in your murderer not important now?” he called over.

Nugent looked at him, did a double-take, and then, in steadfast refusal to look anything but professional, managed to keep it together as she stalked over to him. “What are you doing back here?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Anything you like, Peony, you know that,” he oiled, finishing it off with a little wink.

She cleared her throat and straightened her back. “Well… the woman you wanted brought here? She’s gone.”

“Gone? Where?” He checked his fantastically expensive watch. “When will she be back?”

“She _won’t_. She’s bolted. Apparently she got free of her handcuffs, subdued two officers, and let herself out of a moving vehicle without anyone seeing anything.”

“Well she _is_ a black witch - I’m sure there wasn’t a lot your people in blue could do about it,” he said. People turned and looked at him, but he didn’t appear to notice. “Wait - do you mean I have to go find her _again?_ ” he asked, aghast.

“You’re not going anywhere, mister. You’re a key suspect and when we found you, you had your hand around a woman’s throat.”

“And you’re welcome,” he protested. “I dread to think what she would have done to you lot if I hadn’t _subdued_ her before you arrived.” He paused as a young man to his right caught his eye. “Anyway, why don’t you and I put… our… heads… Oh, I say.” His head snapped round to watch the officer plummet to the floor. “Is he supposed to do that?”

Nugent turned quickly. “Hawkes? _Hawkes!_ ” She rushed over and turned the man on his side. “Medical assistance! Now!” she bellowed.

People suddenly rammed into high gear; blues swarmed and moved like birds in a flock, others disappeared through doors to other rooms, walkie-talkie radios crackled and bit back. Suddenly two more people were pushing into the area.

A shorter woman nudged Lucifer to one side. “Coming through - medic,” she called. Lucifer watched as she crouched and took hold of Hawkes’ head, turning it to see her, talking to him quietly as she opened his eyes with her thumbs.

The man across from her was already opening up some kind of case and pulling out all manner of instruments.

“What is it?” Nugent was asking from above. “Is he ok?”

“He doesn’t look it,” Lucifer mused.

“Shut up,” she snapped. “Can someone tell me what happened to him?”

“From what I’m seeing,” the woman said, “I’d say it’s radiation poisoning. But I don’t have any clue how he’s been irradiated.”

“Radiation?” Nugent said. “That’s what the first victim died of.”

“Marina?” Lucifer asked. “No no no - when you say ‘radiation’ you mean _magic_.”

The entire lobby fell silent. Every head turned to stare at him.

“That’s probably where this poor fellow got doused,” he went on, oblivious. “It would have been when the black witch used some kind of magic to get out of the back of his car without him seeing.” He sniffed, looking around the room at everyone. “Wasn’t there another officer in the car too? You should check her.”

Nugent looked around quickly. “Osbourne - where’s Osbourne? Find her!” she yelled.

People scrambled. Lucifer looked at his watch. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said to Nugent, “we really should get on and find this suspect, don’t you think?”

 

ooOoo

 

The pen rolled seemingly of its own volition, across the table and off the edge. It clattered to the floor but Tanya, hard at work touch-counting items in sealed plastic evidence bags, didn’t even turn to see. Instead she finished all the items on the last page of the inventory and then stood back.

“Right, so… two items missing. One of them is some kind of rod, and the other is…” She curled the other sheets down over the clipboard to check back for her marks. “Possibly a duplicate item.” She huffed. “So it’s the rod - he took the rod. Why?”

She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and her thumb ran over the screen as thoughts tumbled and jumbled through her brain. Then she huffed again, pressed the button to unlock it, and chose a name in the list of recently dialled.

 

ooOoo

 

Nugent’s phone rang. “Yes?” She paused. “You have? And is she—. Ok, got it. Keep me informed. Now do you have any idea what’s causing this?”

Lucifer looked around the station at the other officers. “Right then, everyone!” he called. He clapped his hands and people stopped to turn and look at him. “Seeing as this woman is very a slippery suspect, I’ve decided that all of you will stay here where it’s safe, and I’ll go get her back for you. We can’t have any more of you getting hit with this magic, now can we?”

“Excuse me, sir,” said a tall woman to his right. “But say we let you go after her - you’d be hit with it too.”

“Me?” he grinned. “Oh don’t worry, darling. I’m immune.”

“And we’re police officers. This is what we do - it’s dangerous, but we do it.”

“Yes and that’s all very charming, love, but this is not part of your assumed day-to-day risk and I can’t protect you all if she starts using magic on people. So be a dear and stay put, alright? I’ll sort this out and take back what she stole, and then put it to good use.” He reached out and patted a hand into her arm before snaking round her and heading for the exit.

She watched him go, then turned to Nugent. “Detective, should we—?”

Nugent put her phone back in her pocket. “Everyone listen up! We are now under quarantine. No-one comes in or out of the station until we figure out what we’re dealing with. Now where’s that—.” She caught sight of Lucifer pushing through the exit doors. “Hey! You there! Lucifer!”

The officer next to her looked troubled. “I need to write a report, Detective.”

“Not right now, Jones.”

“No, I mean… I discharged my weapon. Into that’s man’s leg. And it just… kinda… ricocheted or bounced off or something. But he wasn’t hurt.”

Nugent turned to her. “What?”

“He brushed it off. Like it was less than an insect bite.” She looked down at the gun safely buttoned in its holster. “I checked my weapon, everything - there’s something really weird going on and now he’s talking about magic.”

“Fifty years ago the Cloud would have been magic to a guy walking down the street,” Nugent tutted. “Lucifer is just some scientist who doesn’t think we can handle big words like the name of this radiation that’s poisoned two of our own _and_ killed a woman.” She paused to think. “First things first - he may be a poncy scientist who thinks we’re all cave people, but he’s still someone we’ve sworn to protect.” _And I owe him for that interview room sex that nearly fried all my brain cells_ , she added. She pulled out her phone. “We get him back here for radiation testing.” She raised her voice. “Everyone stay put - we all have to be tested for radiation poisoning, then we’ll see about getting this quarantine ended.”

Murmurs of general apprehension and fear swept the hallway. Jones, the tallest officer, folded her arms and stared after the closing exit door to the street.

 

ooOoo

 

A jangling, annoying ringtone cut the air of the mill house. John reached across the massive tome on the mill stone that he was attempting to read to sweep it up. He looked at the name on the display before answering. “Hey, Tanya, pet. How are you?”

“You took evidence from the forensics room.”

“Oh. And I thought you were calling me about something more personal,” he smiled. His eyes went back to the huge book as he picked up a pen and noted something on a scrap of paper next to him.

“Why did you take a rod? What are you doing with it?”

“Tanya, I’d love to tell you all about it - I really would. But it’s complicated and right now I don’t actually know who I can trust.” He scribbled something else down from the book. “What’s this really about?”

“Shit’s hit the fan, John. Detective Nugent has a warrant for your arrest, and now the police station is under some kind of quarantine due to a couple of officers having radiation poisoning - the same thing that killed your friend. No-one knows what’s causing it so we have to—”

“Radiation poisoning?” he gasped. “Like Marina Morello?”

“Exactly like her.” Tanya paused. “You’re not worried about the warrant for your arrest?”

“Not if you’re all stuck inside the police station for now. That gives me time.”

“We have patrol cars, dumbass,” she snapped. “They’ll find you and arrest you, take you to the next precinct station until we’re given the all-clear.”

“Are you angry I stole evidence or angry I won’t tell you why?” he asked, surprised.

“Both. I thought we were —. Well I didn’t think you’d steal something. That’s on me - _I_ have to account for all the evidence bags.”

“Look, I’m really sorry, ok? I will bring it back - the rod is no good to me. Really.” He paused. “Where’s Tall Dark and Handsome got to? Is he with you at the station?”

“Lucifer? That’s what Nugent called him.”

“Yeah - him.”

“He brought in a suspect - or tried to. Officer Jones here says that she escaped out the back of the patrol car - it was the two officers who were driving that car who got hit by radiation poisoning. Lucifer called it magic and we all ignored him. She says he walked out thinking he was immune to radiation poisoning, the weirdo. And… that he was going to find what your suspect lost and then make good use of it.” She paused. “What is he talking about - what do you know?”

He sighed. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, love.”

“Tell me - convince me you’re not the bad guy here.”

He paused. And then he bit the side of his top lip for a second. “Nothing I can be arrested for.”

“You know there’s not much I can do from inside the forensics rooms of a quarantined police station,” she said dryly.

John pulled the phone back and looked at it. He sighed and put it back to his ear. “Look, I—. I really can’t go into it right now.”

“But—!”

“Listen, love - hopefully when all this is over I’ll have time to sit you down and explain it all. But I’m a little busy here - I’ve got quite a few ingredients to get together.”

“Ingredients? Are you _cooking?_ ”

“Kinda.”

ooOoo

 

She turned on the spot, her hands outstretched. “Come on, come on,” she hissed. “You have to be here _somewhere_.”

The park looked back at her, all innocent green grass contrasted with the brown, straggly kind on the other side of the young trees.

It was a few minutes before she gave up and let her hands drop. “Fine. Am I going to have to bring you here myself?” She turned to her left to stare around her. Finally she turned through one hundred and eighty degrees to stare right.

Then she grinned.

 

ooOoo

 

The early evening street was full of people, the roads filled with traffic. Lucifer strode down the pavement, easily a head taller than most of the pedestrians, his eyes scanning the crowds. He eventually found himself back at the park, the street lamps casting faint shadows across the entrance gates.

His hands in his pockets, he went to the threshold and looked in. Searching left and right, he ambled through the gates to make his way to the same spot as earlier.

“Well well well,” said a voice to his left.

He turned and looked the woman up and down. “You never told me _your_ name.”

Alina, her arms folded as she leant casually against a tree, looked him up and down. “You know, you’re pretty easy on the eyes when you’re not squeezing a girl’s windpipe.”

“Well you _are_ a murderer, dear,” he said with charm, doing up the buttons on his jacket. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be off trying to find this trinket to do all kinds of terrible things with your new super-charged black magic.”

She smiled. “I can’t deny life would be easier with that behind me,” she said. “However… it does have to be destroyed. You know this, and I know this.”

“And so does John, who is no doubt already working out a way to do just that.”

“Are you so sure?” she asked, her smile fading into serious doubt. “I know he has it, and yet I’m right here, in this park. Do you know why?”

“You’re really a misunderstood romantic and you’re waiting for the for sun to go down so you can watch it?” he hazarded with the utmost sarcasm.

“I don’t want to be anywhere near John Constantine when he opens that Hand of God.”

“He doesn’t have to open it to destroy it.”

“Again - are you so sure he’s going to destroy it? You know John, you know what he’s like. Consign people to Hell by accident - whoops. Use his friends as human shields against demons - whoops. Open up a Hand of God and feed off its power - whoops.” She smiled. “After all, he’s told you how to destroy it, right?”

“I’m Lucifer bloody Morningstar - I already _know_ how to destroy one of Dad’s toys, ta very much,” he snapped.

She shrugged. “ _Mea culpa_. But he did tell you his plan, right? He told you where he’d take it once you two split up tonight.”

“Splitting up wasn’t the plan.” He paused, then closed his mouth deliberately.

“Ngaw - has the puny human out-smarted the Devil himself? Has he _stolen_ from you, Lucifer?”

“We’re working _together_ , woman.”

“Alina,” she said brightly. “Alina Harvey-Pendry.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

“Double-crossed, I’m thinking.”

“I know where he is, and I know where the Hand of God is. What I don’t know is what you want.”

“I want it destroyed. You know how easily it corrupts people. What do you think John’s _really_ doing with it right now? Why hasn’t he found you and shown you he’s destroyed it?”

Lucifer smiled, then lifted a finger to wag it at her. “You’re pretty good at this.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been around a long time. I’ve seen people like John Constantine come and go.”

“That’s the thing,” he said, crossing the grass to stop uncomfortably close to her. “John hit forty a while ago - a _long_ while ago - and just stopped ageing. So that makes you—”

“His elder. By a long chalk.” She smiled, her eyes going up and around his face as if committing it to memory. “You know… If you’re into choking a girl, then there’s a time and place.” She slid a finger down his suit lapel.

“Hmm,” he rumbled, but his eyes were anything but amused. “I came here to find you and take you to the police station.”

“That’s cute,” she grinned. “I don’t think I’m your top priority right now. I mean, lest we forget, I don’t even have the Hand of God - John does.” She paused. “In the time it takes you to get me to the station, he could have opened it and caused all _kinds_ of havoc. Perhaps you should be more worried about what _he’s_ doing with it at this very moment.”

He stepped away from her. “Don’t go after the Hand, Alina. For your sake.”

“Don’t trust John. For a lot of people’s sakes.”

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I’m sure.”

He inclined his head and walked away.

She watched him go. And then she pushed herself up off the tree and dashed to her car.

 

ooOoo

 

The metal steps to the mill house were surprised, but not altogether upset, to find Lucifer dropping down them with complete poise. He met the floor and looked around.

“You took your time,” John called from the mill stone.

Lucifer’s hands went into his trouser pockets and he wandered over. “You didn’t tell me where we were regrouping. I had a few things to take care of first, anyway.” He stood and watched John from across the large stone surface. “You _were_ going to tell me where you’d taken it, weren’t you, John?”

“You knew where I’d take it,” John said, surprised. “Hence why I said ‘you took your time’. Where have you been?”

“Cleaning up the mess,” he said politely, but there was something in his voice that John didn’t take to.

“Oh aye? Got that bird arrested, did you?”

“No. She escaped. After she hurt officers.”

“So Tanya tells me.”

“Tanya?”

“The scientist working forensics.”

Lucifer rocked on his heels as he cast a quick look at the ceiling. “Ah yes. The lovely Tanya.” He glared at John. “So where’s the Hand, John?”

“Somewhere normal people can’t find it,” he shrugged.

“ _Where?_ ”

John looked at him in surprise. “What’s it to you?”

“Well it was stolen from a strongbox in Hell. It should go back there where it’s safe.”

“Back amongst the demons who probably mailed it up here just to cause chaos in the first place, maybe even on your orders? Get bent.”

Lucifer’s face hardened. “Have a care, Con Job.”

“Watch your mouth,” John breathed.

They glared at each other for an entire uncomfortable minute.

“It’s not safe to keep it up here and you know it,” Lucifer said.

“I told you I was going to destroy it.”

“So you keep saying. Show me the pieces and we’re done.”

“I don’t have to show you anything,” John growled. “This was always _my_ case, Lucifer. You butted in because you were lonely and bored and this game looked fun. Don’t pretend you’re in this to save humanity, like you give a single shit about people dying up here.”

Lucifer came around the mill stone slowly, his shoes silent, his face dark. His eyes flashed red as he stopped in front of the shorter man. “Do you know what humans really don’t understand about Hell?” he asked, his voice quiet, controlled - icy. “No-one cares. No-one is bothered by anything or anyone. There’s no structure, no loyalty, no helping others and no reciprocation. When I first came up here, I found some humans would just randomly help other humans, and it wasn’t because it would help their climb to the top, or somehow get them points they could use later - it was simply because the other person needed help. No more, no less. The fact that people up here just freely give their time and resources to come to the aid of someone who sometimes has more than they do to begin with… _That’s_ humanity, John. It’s what my Father gave to you lot and why you’re all unpredictable, precarious and so very capricious. When you’re good, you rival angels in their righteous hope for a bright, shiny utopia. When you’re bad… you would give the First of the Fallen a run for his money on one of his _bad_ days.” He paused, noticing John’s slightly flushed face, his hard eyes. “You know I could _make_ you tell me where it is.”

John almost smiled. “I don’t think you could.”

“Pleasure or pain - everyone succumbs in the end.”

“Try it.”

“Careful, John. You might _not_ enjoy it.”

“Says you.”

Silence descended, watching the two men.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Show me the broken Hand of God, and we’re done.”

“What’s this ‘we’ business?”

Lucifer paused. He lifted his chin slightly, but his eyes never left John’s. “Case closed. That _is_ what we both want, isn’t it?”

John didn’t move for a long moment. Eventually he lifted his left arm, pointing past Lucifer’s shoulder to something behind him.

Lucifer’s head began to turn, but his eyes didn’t leave John’s until the last moment. He turned his back and walked straight to the bookshelves. Large volumes made of ancient paper and other odd items had been moved recently, if the smell and the disturbed dust were anything to go by. Sitting by itself, the other things on the surface almost leaning to be further away from it, was a glass case. It was earthed in what appeared to be a heavy metal base that housed strange symbols on each of its sides.

Bending to peer through the glass of the box, Lucifer recognised the broken metal shell that used to be the shape and size of a tennis ball. And there, in between the shards, was a perfectly apexed pile of dust.

Lucifer smiled. He straightened up again, his hands back in his trouser pockets. He swished around to look at the human still sweating for England inside his white cotton shirt. “Well then. There really was no need for all that bluster and posturing, was there?” he beamed.

“No,” John managed, but his eyes were still wary as Lucifer came back to the mill stone.

“So all we need to do now is stop Ms Alina Harvey-Pendry from murdering more people to get what’s already been destroyed.”

“Alina Harvey-Pendry?”

“Yes. The black witch we’ve been dealing with all this time.”

“ _That’s_ her name?” John demanded.

Lucifer’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “I think I just said that.”

“Bollocks,” John hissed.

“Do you know her?”

“Only by reputation,” he said, turning to put both hands on the mill stone and lean on them with all his weight. “She’s a witch alright - a bloody powerful one. No wonder she nearly had us in the park.”

“Let me guess - she’s not known for playing fair?”

“No. You hear things in this business - rumour has it she did some kind of deal with a demon for her witchcraft - anything up to a few hundred years ago. Now she buys from auction houses, steals from exhibits, fleeces people for ‘antiquities’ as she calls them. They’re all magick items that she needs for some scheme or other.”

“That last part sounds like you, John.”

“We don’t have magical protection powers up here,” John snapped. “We have to use what we can to protect ourselves when we’re fighting wars _your_ lot has started on _our_ turf.”

Lucifer’s face fell. “I was joking, John.”

“Of course you were. Everything’s a joke to you, ain’t it?”

Lucifer grabbed his arm and turned him round to glare at him. He pushed his face down so close to John’s the human could feel the heat, could sense the red in his eyes without needing to see it. “Not _everything_. I’m pretty sure you’re getting that idea right about now.”

John looked back at him. His mouth opened. His eyes flicked down Lucifer’s face, then crawled back up to his eyes. “I’m getting a _lot_ of ideas right about now,” he managed.

Lucifer’s fingers let go. He straightened up and took a step back. “Humans. So easily distracted,” he said airily, but then he cleared his throat and looked deliberately at the mill stone. “We need to find her. She has to be punished for at least three self-confessed murders. And if those two officers at the station don’t pull through, it makes five.”

John wiped a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, let me…” He sniffed and stood a little straighter. “I can use a spell to find her fast.”

“She was in the park a short time ago.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I was just there - and so was she.”

John _glared_. “You mean you were with her in the park and you just left her there?”

“Something more important came up.”

“Like what?” John cried. “What the bloody hell was more important than getting her back into a police station?”

Lucifer straightened up slowly, his hands going into his trouser pockets. “Let’s just get on with this, shall we?”

John looked at him - just looked. Suddenly he broke eye contact and shifted his feet, looking deliberately at the table. “Right, well. I’ve got a spell here… The quicker we round her up and get her to the police station under magical restraint, the better.”

“I concur,” Lucifer said with a slight smile. “And then we’re free to pursue other interests.”

John refused to look at him. Instead he went around him to the bookshelves, searching through the items stored upon them. He crouched to begin again on a lower shelf. Lucifer’s head tilted to let his eyes follow the seat of John’s trousers as the human moved.

“All kinds of other interests,” he mused.

“What?” John called over.

Lucifer raised his eyes hastily to his pre-occupied profile. “Need some help?” he asked innocently.

 

ooOoo

 

The nondescript sedan pulled up outside the mill house, the tyres crunching in the loose gravel as it came to a stop. Alina opened the door and climbed out, stretching every muscle before quietly closing the door.

Her low-heeled Chelsea boots took her near-silently up to the door. She studied the lock for a moment before producing a rather battered pair of lock picks. She got to work, and in under a minute she was opening the door as quietly as possible.

She slipped inside as she pocketed the picks. The landing greeted her with suspicion and darkness, but she crept along it with her hand on the railing. Hearing voices she paused.

“Location spells take a bit of time. Go watch telly or something.”

“You humans. You hate the idea that someone might be interested in how you do things.”

“It’s not a state secret, mate. It’s just that I don’t like being watched. The moment I make the tiniest mistake you’ll be all over it.”

“We all make mistakes, John. Just get on with it.”

“I _am_ getting on with it! Shut up and let me work.”

She smiled to herself and edged down the upper landing until she came to the metal staircase. She halted and pondered it for a long moment.

“You can come down, Alina,” came a sudden voice. “We won’t bite.”

She looked over the railing to see the two men looking up at her from a large white stone table affair. She rolled her eyes and leant on the wooden safety barrier. “How did you know I was here?”

“You smell like Hell, darling,” Lucifer beamed. “Quite literally, I’m afraid. All that power coming from down there? The smell lingers.”

“Figures.” She went down the metal steps carefully, coming to the bottom and watching them.

“You should be in one of at least three different traps right now,” John said, his face a study in anger. “What have you done to this house?”

“Nothing,” she smiled, spreading her hands. “But I’m covered in a cloaking spell. Eyes can detect me, but other-worldly things like your house can’t.”

“Bloody typical,” John groused.

“I can,” Lucifer said, putting a hand up. “Yay me. Anyway, what _are_ you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, it saves us having to find you and all that, but really, why come straight to us?”

“For the Hand of God, of course,” she said.

“You’re a little late,” Lucifer said with a wide grin.

John’s eyes went to Alina, then the bookshelves, then back to her. “Lucifer here’s quite upset you’ve killed some people though, so…” He put a hand up and pushed at the Devil’s arm. “Off you go, son. Get her.”

Lucifer took a step forward, a grin covering his face. “Love to.”

Alina raised both her hands as if testing for rain. “Let’s even the odds a little, shall we?”

The house winked into darkness.

 

 


	9. The Statue of Liberty Called; She Wants to Commiserate

 

 

John’s eyes widened, hoping to somehow see in the pitch black. His hands grasped the edge of the mill stone and he shuffled round it to bring it between him and where Alina had been standing before the lights had gone out.

Lucifer, however, gave a smug chuckle. “Oh, darling. You think a little darkness bothers me? I _can_ see through it, you know.”

“This… isn’t dark,” John realised. “This is…”

“This is Hell pitch,” Lucifer said, somewhere to his left and apparently moving. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to see in it? This is like office lighting for Hell staff.”

A ruffle of material, a human squeak of fear and a scuffle; John rammed his eyes shut and listened as hard as he could.

“Now then,” Lucifer said, sounding very pleased with himself. The sound of a single finger-snap - and the light was back.

John opened his eyes. “Well that didn’t take long.”

Lucifer had Alina by the throat, keeping her at arm’s length as he turned his shoulder to look back at John. “Some people just don’t get it,” he sighed. He looked back at Alina. “Lord of Hell, love. Heard of it? So every piece of magic you produce by drawing on power from Down There? I own it. Let’s just pretend you put up a brave fight, there was a huge rumble and we all fought very hard and very long - but in the end I won,” he added with a smug grin.

She struggled against his grip. “Hand of - Hand of G-God!” she rasped.

“Yes, yes - that’s destroyed. We’re done here,” Lucifer said. “All that’s left is for me to punish you for at least three murders.”

“Can still - can still feel it,” she hissed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucifer tutted. He looked back at John. “She actually believes it’s still here.”

“Ok,” John shrugged, less than interested.

Lucifer grinned. “Well, I suppose technically it _is_ ,” he grinned, now back at Alina. “You see, John’s already cracked the carry case and destroyed the rock inside. It’s irreparable. There’s no spell you can do, no magic you can use, that will bring it back.”

She grinned, her fingers still trying to pry his from her throat. “Are you - you sure?” she managed. “What if John - lied?”

Lucifer’s face hardened. He glared at her. Then he looked over at John. “Tell her,” he snapped.

“It’s destroyed,” John said amiably. “Job done.”

“See?” Lucifer said.

She tried to chuckle, but the pressure on her windpipe made it hard. She clawed at his fingers. “Proof.”

Lucifer huffed. “I’ve seen it - and more to the point, I can’t feel it in this room. Now this is over. Let’s go.” He swung her to haul her after him.

“Wait,” John said. “Magical restraints, right?”

Lucifer paused and John came around the mill stone.

He picked up a long length of something that looked like a strip of blue silk. He held it up in both hands, stopping by Lucifer’s side. “I need her wrists,” he said.

Lucifer kept a firm hold on her throat but grabbed her left wrist, yanking it against her strength. John quickly wrapped the silk around it twice, then nodded. Lucifer found her other wrist and pulled that out too, having to hold it fast against her struggling. John wound the silk around that one, then pulled to bring her wrists much closer together. He tied the silk off around each wrist, then tied the two ends together.

“That should do it,” he nodded.

Lucifer released her throat slowly. She dragged in breath and coughed a few times as the two men stood back. “Tell me,” Lucifer said, “what does that ribbon do?”

“Handcuffs,” John said. He backed up to the mill stone, finding his packet of Silk Cut and opening it up. He reached for a lighter and sparked up, taking a long drag on the cigarette before dropping the packet and the lighter back to the stone. “They restrict her ability to use magic. As long as those are around two limbs, she’s powerless.”

“Nice,” Lucifer nodded. “So now we punish her.”

“ _You_ punish her. I was in this for the Hand of God.”

Alina pulled at her wrists but found the knots weren’t actually holding it closed at all. Some kind of other-worldly strength was keeping her chained. She hissed and cursed. Then she looked up, flicking her hair from her face. “And now you have it, John? What will you do with it?”

“I told you - it’s destroyed,” Lucifer said. “What you should be more concerned with is what happens to _you_ now.”

“Oh I _know_ what happens now,” she snapped. “I’ll get free of these bonds, find the Hand of God and destroy John, and you, and anyone else who tries to use it.”

“I’m sorry, are you deaf?” Lucifer protested, his voice high with disbelief. “Am I speaking Urdu? I mean, I know I do that sometimes when I’m really _really_ drunk but I’m pretty sure everything we’ve discussed this evening has been in English.”

“It’s a pile of dust,” John said, his eyes hard on Alina’s.

“Keep telling him that, John,” Alina snapped. “Pathetic. Do you really think the Devil himself would be fooled by such a cheap trick?”

“This is a waste of time,” Lucifer said loudly. “And I’m not listening to you any more. I know what you’re trying to do and quite frankly I find it all very boring.” He grabbed her elbow. “Let’s find a nice room in this big house where we can start on the punishment flames, shall we?” He looked back at John. “Are any of these rooms Hellfire-retardant?”

John opened his mouth but Alina yanked her elbow free. “It’s somewhere close to this room! I can feel it!” she protested. “John hasn’t destroyed it at all! Stop him before he can use it!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Really, this is getting _very_ tiresome.” He lifted a hand and pointed. “It’s over there, and like John said, it’s a pile of dust. Get it into your head - it’s gone for good.”

She whipped her head round to look at the glass case. She shuffled back slowly, her eyes on Lucifer.

“Oh what are you doing _now?_ ” he heaved. “Look, cut this out.”

“I’ll show you,” she snapped.

“Stop!” John called. “Don’t touch it!”

“But you said it was destroyed, _John_ ,” she called back. “What does it matter if I touch it?”

Lucifer looked at John, a question on his face. John frowned at him so hard it was a wonder he didn’t pull a muscle. “Why tempt fate?” he asked.

Lucifer turned and began to cross the room to her.

She backed up faster.

John dropped his cigarette and crushed it out. He came round from behind the mill stone, toward her.

She bumped into the bookshelf behind her. She looked round quickly, then back to see Lucifer closing on her. “Too late,” she snarled. Her hands went out and she shoved at the glass case.

“No!” John shouted.

It slid off the shelf with glee, whizzing out into open space, enjoying its sudden freedom.

—For about two seconds. Then it plummeted to the floor. The case shattered into tiny shards. The broken shell inside hit the unforgiving surface in a way that sent all of its pieces breakdancing at dizzying speeds in all directions. The strangely fine yet hard particles of dust were thrown out all over the floor. They coated the stonework of the ground between the three of them, gently coming to rest like water that’s found a happy medium.

The three of them stared down at the carnage.

“Well,” Lucifer said quietly. “Your first punishment is _definitely_ going to be cleaning that up.”

“Touch it,” she demanded.

Lucifer went around the mess and simply grabbed her arm again.

John, his eyes wide, was still staring at the mess on the floor.

“But - but - look at it! Check it!” she urged.

“Not listening,” Lucifer said, sing-song, as he pulled her along with him. Her feet stumbled on the floor but he dragged her along, to the nearest door down the corridor. “I’ll be right back, John. Don’t wait for me.” He opened the door, checked inside, and then simply pushed her in and followed. The door slammed shut behind him.

John managed to rouse himself. He took a deep breath and straightened his back. Then he turned to the mill stone and snatched up the open book, paging through hastily.

 

ooOoo

 

The door opened up again and Lucifer walked out. His suit jacket was over his arm and his white shirt sleeves were rolled up. His hair looked like sweaty hands had been through it a few times. He wiped his palms together as he made it back to the mill stone. “Phew! She was a hard case. It took at least an hour to even get her to show pain.” He paused to look at John as he dropped his jacket to the stone. “You haven’t cleaned up yet.”

“It’s been a few minutes.”

“What?”

“That corridor is weird - time’s all messed up down there. It’s been over an hour for you, but it’s been minutes out here.”

“Oh.” He turned and assessed the room. “So what’s next?”

“Give me a minute,” John muttered.

Lucifer turned and crossed to the dust on the floor, the broken glass, the metal pieces. He crouched and rested his forearms on his elbows. “I’m assuming you have some kind of magic dustpan and brush for this.”

“Don’t touch it,” John muttered.

“Although it is strange - I really _can_ feel it’s still around. Perhaps it’d be better if the dust itself were destroyed as well.” He put a hand out.

John’s head snapped up. He looked around. “Don’t touch it!”

Lucifer’s hand paused but it was too late; it smushed into the soft layering of dust on the floor in front of him. He frowned. His hand pressed harder at the floor, then moved from side to side slowly. “John,” he said, his voice like ice. “Explain to me why I can’t feel this.”

“Uh…”

“Like it’s _not even here_ ,” he growled. He reached for a metal shard but watched his fingers go straight through it. He eyes flashed red and stayed that way. John had a moment to swallow and take a step back; in the time it took his eyes to blink Lucifer had already crossed the room. His hand grasped the shirt under John’s chin and clenched very, very hard. “You double-crossing, _lying_ piece of—”

“It’s not what you think!” he gasped. He put a hand up against Lucifer’s shirt to shove him off. It had no effect whatsoever.

“You covered it with a spell somewhere and left that mirage in its place, _didn’t you?_ ” Lucifer raged, his face close to his.

“It was a glamour spell!”

“You _lied_ to me, John!” he raged. “You _lied_ to me! You made me believe it was destroyed! So where’s the real one? Where are you hiding it? Tell me, you deceitful, betraying little _human_ and I’ll _halve_ your punishment to just a hundred years!”

“I had no choice,” John shot back. He grabbed at Lucifer’s wrist but it didn’t move. “I had to fool her and I needed you to believe so she would—”

“Well you fooled _me_ , human!” Lucifer snarled. “How dare you! How dare you pull a fast one on the Lord of Hell! How _dare_ you use me in one of your little human plans to deceive another! You cowardly - stupid - self-serving little _maggot!_ ”

“It can’t be destroyed up here,” he snapped. “Lucifer—”

Lucifer yanked John’s shirt, and by extension his face, very close to his. His eyes flamed red.

“Take the real one,” John said quickly. “Now she knows it’s not destroyed we have to—”

“ _We_ have to _what?_ ”

John’s hand blundered into Lucifer’s shirt and grabbed as if to a lifeline. “She was supposed to think it was destroyed. Then I’d have time to find a way to destroy it.” He pushed against Lucifer’s shirt but he may as well have tried to shove a mountain face. “I didn’t have time to destroy it before you got here. The glamour spell was just to buy us _time_ , Lucifer!”

“Is that supposed to make it ok?” he demanded, his eyes still flaming red. “You lied to _me_ , John, and then you used me to try to make her believe your lies. You _do_ know who I am, don’t you? That I don’t lie? That I don’t participate in lies?”

“That’s why you couldn’t know it was a lie! That’s why it would have worked! Who would think to second-guess if _you_ were lying?”

Lucifer’s frown deepened. “Now listen here, you little shit—”

“But it didn’t work - my magic was crap,” he interrupted. “And that’s the _only_ thing I did wrong, Lucifer - my magic was crap. It was rushed and I bodged it. And _that’s_ my only crime.”

Lucifer growled some word deep in his throat.

“Admit it,” John managed, his chin starting to jut out, “you would have done the same. But you couldn’t - you don’t lie. And you still haven’t - because I didn’t tell you. I _protected_ you - I didn’t tell you so that you wouldn’t actually be telling a lie, because to the best of your knowledge it was _true_.”

“Technicalities,” Lucifer spat.

John began to smile, a sly light coming to his eyes. “Which Hell is ruled by - and you know it.”

“You still _used_ me, human.”

“Aw, is the big bad Devil upset that some tiny insignificant human out-smarted the real evil in the room by lying to the Devil to protect his reputation? Is that _really_ what you’re upset about?”

Lucifer’s eyes crawled down his face, then made their slow way back up to his eyes. “You really should be punished for this.”

John scoffed openly, but there was some kind of bone-numbing fatigue in there. “Bring it on. I’ve been punished my whole life, mate. Whatever you’ve got? It’s too little, too late.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. He yanked on John’s shirt. And then he crushed his mouth to his, his hand moving to the back of John’s head. The human stiffened for a whole three seconds before he stepped into it, kissing him back hard.

Suddenly he shoved Lucifer back a step. “Don’t - don’t do that, mate,” he wheezed, looking at the floor.

“That wasn’t punishment, John,” he said with surprise. “I’m not actually sure if I _should_ punish you, but—”

“Just… don’t,” John muttered.

Lucifer stepped uncomfortably close to him again. “Why?”

John took a step back but Lucifer gripped his arm and stopped him. The human lifted his chin and stared at Lucifer, and the Devil had to admit he could not remember the last time he had seen such emptiness in a human’s eyes. “Punishment,” John said, with a cynical smile. “Punishment is finding someone, and having them ripped from you. Punishment is being alone for so long, then finding someone and thinking ‘hey, this time it will be different’ - having all that hope, that happiness, and then having it all taken away again.”

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at—”

“Sod off,” John snapped. “No it ain’t.”

Lucifer looked at him for a long, telling moment. “Am I supposed to believe you don’t have notches on your bedpost from one-night stands?”

John didn’t look at him. “This is different. You know it is.” Now he raised his eyes to his. “You know who I am, what I’ve done. There’s probably nothing you don’t know about me. And you still…”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. “And I still think you need a good shag to restore your mood - at least for a few days,” he said impishly.

“Don’t do this.”

But Lucifer brought his face closer. “Admit it,” he said quietly. “You’ve been thinking about it. All this time.”

“Yeah?” John snapped. “Well I also think about holidays in places where no-one knows my name - don’t mean I can actually go,” he added. Lucifer grinned. John looked him up and down, affronted. “What?”

“You said ‘also’,” he winked.

John tutted. “Get bent.”

Lucifer pulled on his shirt and kissed him.

This time it took a whole minute for John to step back. “Look,” he said, somewhat out of breath. “I just can’t do this, not with someone who actually _knows_ me. Strangers are easy, but people who know you are—”

“Just for one day, John… you could not be alone.”

John’s mouth closed. His lips thinned into a determined line.

Lucifer took a step back hastily. “But I guess… that’s your punishment. Not the one day, but what happens next.” He nodded, then looked at his feet. “I’m… sorry, John.”

“Aren’t we all,” he muttered.

Lucifer’s face sagged. “Then I… Well, I won’t do that again.”

“So… D’you want to take the real Hand back?” John cleared his throat. “To Hell, I mean?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re just going to give it to me? After all that fuss you made about - well - _not_ giving it to me?”

“She was supposed to believe it was destroyed - everyone was. Then I could have spent the next few years finding a good way to _actually_ destroy the bloody thing. Now…” He shrugged. “Perhaps giving it to you to get it off our plane of existence would be better. At least for now.”

Lucifer considered him. He put his hands in his trouser pockets, stepping back and then wandering over to the mirage of dust and glass on the floor. “You know I can destroy it - just not up here. The fall-out would be terrible.” He paused. “I’ll take it,” he said. “I have someone I can hand it off to.”

“What?” John asked. “You mean you’re not taking it to Hell yourself?”

“Uh… No,” Lucifer managed, not looking at him. “Not directly.”

“Wait a minute.” John came out from behind the mill stone, walking over to him and turning him round by his elbow. “You _can_ just take it down there and destroy it, and then come back - can’t you?”

“Not as such, no,” Lucifer said breezily. “However, Rubicante can come to _me_ and pick it up.”

“A demon? You want me to give it to you, so you can give it to a _demon_ to take back to Hell? No. Sodding. Way.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “She’s just a courier, John. Where in Hell do you think the Hand was going to be destroyed - and by whom?”

John let his arm go hastily. He ran his hands through his hair. “You know what? This whole case has been a monumental pain in my arse… Just take it. Get Rubicante to take it down there and destroy it.”

“Where is it?”

“First room on the left,” John said.

Lucifer’s head snapped around to look at the door. “What?” he asked flatly.

“That one, there,” John said, pointing.

“That room? The _first_ room?”

“Are you deaf?” John asked.

“Oh bloody Hell,” Lucifer breathed - as he turned and broke into a run for the door. He slid into the wood and flung it open. He disappeared.

The door hung wide as John walked up in curiosity. “It’s ok - the rooms are weird and Time is all bolloxed down here, but the rooms don’t actually _eat_ things.”

A quiet, rapid _pat-pat-pat_ sound got louder and louder - and then Lucifer appeared from the depths of darkness in the room. He leant both hands on the frame, staring wide-eyed at John. “She’s gone,” he panted. “ _It’s_ gone. She’s taken it.”

“What?”

“This is where I took Alina to punish her! Keep up!”

John’s face went very hard and very stone-like. “Are you taking the piss?”

“You saw me drag her in here! Why didn’t you say something!”

“I didn’t see you do _anything_ with her!” John hurled back. “I was trying to figure out a way to destroy the bloody thing before you worked out it wasn’t actually on the floor in pieces!”

“Oh well that’s just great!” Lucifer raged. “She’s escaped and she’s got the Hand of God! And she’s just been through a few hours of top-level, traumatising, soul-destroying guilt tripping and retribution!”

John slapped his hands over his face and dragged them down quite slowly. “Bugger me.”

“Maybe later - we’re busy,” Lucifer snapped. He went around John and back to the mill stone, to look at the open books upon it. “Can you find her? Or the Hand? They must be giving off some kind of thing you can track.”

John scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I’m too tired for this,” he muttered. Then he closed the door to the room and walked slowly back to his books. “Maybe,” he said. “Give me a minute.”

 


	10. Bringing a Lighter to a Water Fight

 

 

Detective Nugent stalked through the station, a bundle of files in her hands.

“Detective! Detective!” came a shout.

She turned and found a young officer waving a sheet of paper at her from across the room. He hurried through the officers currently milling about amongst a plethora of quarantined people. Coming to a stop in front of her, he brandished the sheet as if it held all of life’s answers.

“What is this?” she asked, taking it from him to see it clearly.

“We’re all good, Detective,” he panted. “Radiation source is not in the building and no-one here is at risk - we were _never_ at risk.”

“Well that’s one thing,” she heaved, letting a relieved smile cross her face. She handed him the results paper back. “So let’s get back to normal - where’s the station chief?”

“Still in Florida,” he said. “She wasn’t due back till tomorrow anyway, and then higher up advised her to stay away until the quarantine was brought down.”

“Is it officially down?”

“It is - as of five minutes ago.”

“Then good. Tell the desk sergeant to take everything off hold and open the phone lines to stop them being re-routed to other stations,” she said. “Put out an announcement and get everyone back on their active cases. And do me a favour,” she added.

“Yes?”

“Find Tanya Lee for me - she may be in the forensics lab. Ask her to come up to the bullpen will you?”

“Yes, Detective.”

“Thanks.” He turned and sped off. She looked at her watch, shook her head, and went on to find her desk in the middle of what was already turning into a cautious party of relief.

 

ooOoo

 

John looked up from the puddle of mildly-blue magical goo in the small dish in front of him. “The park.”

“What?” Lucifer demanded. He crossed to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder. “The park? Where we were before?”

“Looks like,” John shrugged. He yawned, then scrubbed at his face. “I thought she would have gone somewhere to use the damned thing.”

Lucifer lifted his chin, thinking. “She did keep banging on about stopping others from using it,” he mused. He turned away and paced slowly toward the far bookshelves. “What if she’s not going to use it herself - what if she’s going to take out anyone else who’d like to use it?”

John picked up the dish covered in strange markings and carried it to the sink in the kitchenette. He turned on the tap and watched the stream of cold water sluice the magical mix of ingredients from the bowl in his hands. “She’d need a list of people capable. The average Joe Bloggs on the street - or even your normal, everyday wizard - wouldn’t know what it was or what to do with it.”

“So she’d be after high level witches, or wizards - mages.” Lucifer paused, then looked over at him. “How far is Chicago from here?”

“What? By plane? Uh… I don’t know. A couple of hours, maybe. Why? What’s in Chicago?” John put the now clean bowl on the drainer next to him and shut off the tap.

“Harry Dresden,” Lucifer said, somewhat darkly.

John turned round to look at him. “Who’s that?”

“A wizard. _That’s_ the level of wizard she’s looking for.”

“Wouldn’t she start here in Atlanta first? And she wouldn’t need a flight - if she charged herself up on the Hand she could just teleport.”

“Damn. Yes.” Lucifer huffed. “So why is she in the park?”

 

ooOoo

 

Tanya stopped by Detective Nugent’s desk, her hands in her pockets. “So I hear we’re all clear to leave?” she asked.

“Yes we are,” Nugent smiled. “However, I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

Nugent indicated the empty chair on the desk next to them. Tanya grabbed it by the arm and wheeled it over. She sat slowly, watching the detective turn toward her.

“First off, I owe you an apology.”

“Really?” Tanya managed. “How’s that?”

“I was… You had an idea about that woman Harvey-Pendry being the murderer and I shot you down. I’m sorry.”

“Uh - ok,” Tanya shrugged.

“Yeah, so… it looks like it _was_ her. The two officers who were dosed with radiation in the car? They were with her. And she said something before she escaped. Hawkes and Osbourne - the radiation poisoning they had is under control and they will make a recovery.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Hawkes said this woman was talking crazy - something about magic and how she was going to find someone’s hand and then put the world in order.”

“Uh-huh.”

Nugent sighed. “So… if it’s _not_ John Constantine we want, and it’s this Harvey-Pendry, then… Do we have anything on her at all? Any idea where she might be? You said she came to you in the forensics room - do you know anything that might help us find her?”

Tanya bit her lip for a moment. “I don’t know anything about _her_ that could help us,” she said slowly. “But… John might know where she is.”

“Why do you say that?”

Tanya thought very carefully about her next words. “Because I think he’s trying to find her too.”

“Then it looks like we’re swapping the warrant for his arrest for permission to track his phone, doesn’t it?”

 

ooOoo

 

She crept in through the gates, finding the darkness a perfect cover for her stealthy travel to the brown grass of the park. Shaking slightly in a way that had nothing to do with the cool of the night, she stopped by a tree and leant her back on it. She slid down until she was sitting comfortably at the bottom. She rested her head back and closed her eyes.

Flames and pain erupted behind her eyelids. They opened in shock and she gasped in air. Her arms came up and wrapped around her as if cold, as she continued to shake. “Damn Lu-Lucifer,” she whispered to herself. “You think Hellish torment can - can break me?” She closed her eyes, made herself dowse the painful memories of flames and agony. Instead she projected her own special thoughts of calm, of mirror-like lakes and gentle, sand-tickling waves on a perfect beach.

Steadily, gradually, the shakes receded. She felt herself relaxing, felt the anguish and guilt of the Devil’s grip ease itself away from her immediate memory.

“I’ll show you,” she whispered. “I’ll show _all_ of you.” She put her hand inside her jacket and found an item wrapped in dirty cloth. She undid it carefully to reveal a metal ball. A grin covered her face as she lifted it out of the cloth in her lap and raised the ball closer to her for better inspection. “At last. Now I’ll have all the power I need without relying on Hell.” She opened the top and gazed longingly at the chunk of rock inside. “Sshh,” she cooed, watching the lump as if it were looking back at her. “Everything’s going to be alright. I promise.”

She put her hand out for the rock.

ooOoo

 

Nugent pulled the sedan up by the park gates, turning the lights off and looking at Tanya in the passenger seat. “Well his cell phone pinged around here. Either he dropped it or he’s in there.”

Tanya peered out of the dark window. “And why am I here again?”

“Because you had his cell number for us to track - and he knows you.”

“Right.” She opened the door and got out smartly, closing it behind her.

Nugent found a spare flashlight in the glovebox and followed suit. She turned it on and then looked at Tanya over the roof of the car. “If anything happens here, you stay behind me. I do _not_ want to explain to higher up why you got hurt out of hours.”

“If anything happens here, I’ll crap myself first and think about forensic excuses for the paperwork a _lot_ later.”

“Good point, well made,” Nugent said with a grim smile. She walked around to the park gates.

Tanya looked around. She followed Nugent’s circle of light before it could disappear.

 

ooOoo

 

John parted the slender branches of the bush in front of him, his face poking through to survey the park beyond. “I don’t see her,” he whispered.

The bush next to him heaved and disappeared as Lucifer simply pushed through, albeit rather delicately, to stride across the grass. “Oh she’s here alright,” he said. “I can feel the Hand of God somewhere over there.”

“Oi! You can’t just—!” John cried. Then he sagged. “Why do I bother?” He stepped out from the bushes and followed the Devil across the green grass.

They made it to the line of trees and then both of their faces went through the divide to peek out at the brown grass beyond.

“See? Told you,” came a voice from behind them.

They both turned hastily - but found two woman watching them.

“Tanya? What are you doing here?” John asked.

“Ah! Detective!” Lucifer grinned. “Finally seeing things my way, are we?”

Nugent took a step toward them both. “You fellas just taking a walk this evening?”

“Yeah - just strolling around, takin’ advantage of the lovely warm night,” John said.

“No - we’re after Alina and she’s somewhere in this park,” Lucifer said. He looked at Tanya, then back at Nugent. “I suggest you two retreat to the police station and let us handle this.”

Nugent’s eyebrows went up in disbelief. “I was going to say the same to you two. You shouldn’t be out here and you shouldn’t be interfering with a police investigation.”

“And by ‘interfering’ you mean you somehow followed us here,” John put in.

Lucifer looked down at him, then over at Nugent. “He might have you there. Look, the thing is, whatever she dishes out can’t harm me, so really and truly you two _do_ need to leave. It’s not safe.”

“What about John?” Tanya asked.

“John has his own form of protection - he at least has some measure of safety,” Lucifer said. “But I can’t and won’t be responsible for a couple of humans tonight.”

“That’s the thing,” Nugent said, pulling her suit jacket open to reveal her holstered handgun, “I can’t and won’t be responsible for two civilians getting hurt tonight.”

Lucifer put his hands on his hips in consternation. “I don’t think you quite grasp—”

“Sshh!” John hissed. Everyone froze. He turned to the trees behind him. “Someone’s here.”

Lucifer whipped around and peered through the foliage. Tanya and Nugent hurried up to do the same.

A soft brown deer, sleek, small and quiet, lifted its head from the brown grass. It turned to see four humans watching it from between tree branches. It gave a jolt and leapt around. Bounding away, it left the four of them to sag in relief.

“Bloody wildlife,” John grumbled. He turned back to them all. “In the interests if speed, how about we _all_ go find her?”

“You _are_ joking,” Lucifer snapped. “They could get hurt, John.”

“And they could distract the bird long enough for you to grab her,” he shot back.

Lucifer’s mouth didn’t open but John has the distinct impression that something was rattling around in there, desperate to get out and slap the human. He took a step back. Lucifer turned to the two women. “Alright, fine,” he huffed. “But when it all kicks off, all you have to do is make a run for…” He paused, noticing Tanya was turning to look to her right. “I’m sorry, are we boring you?”

“Deer,” she said, confused.

“Yes, it was a deer,” Lucifer said. “So when this all—”

“No, a _sika deer_ ,” Tanya said. She turned back to him. “We don’t _have_ any sika deer in Atlanta - they live in Japan.”

John and Lucifer looked at each other. Then they scrambled between the women as one. Nugent and Tanya turned in surprise as the two men galloped off across the grass.

“Where are they going?” Tanya asked.

“Follow them!” Nugent blurted.

They turned and ran.

 

ooOoo

 

It sprang nimbly through the underbrush, dropping with poise to the asphalt just outside the park gates. The deer dropped the item from its mouth and looked left and right as if considering the road and traffic that could have been there.

The streetlamp behind it was shocked to witness the shadow of the deer ripple and change, until, instead of a slender example of Japanese wildlife, there stood an apparently young woman in just an expensive cream silk shirt and grey trousers.

Alina rolled up her sleeves and scraped her long hair from her face. She bent and picked up the Hand of God, checking it over before shoving it in her pocket. She stumbled suddenly, one hand to her cheek. Her other hand went to the wall of the park behind her as she felt the flaming, searing guilt of Hellish penance cross her mind’s eye.

“No,” she whispered. She gritted her teeth, willed her mind to turn the flames into smoke, then into steam - and then calming water. She concentrated, she slowed her heart, she forced the Hell flames to recede.

Finally she pushed herself away from the wall. She put a foot out toward the car parked at the kerb.

Something barrelled into her so hard and so fast she was swept off her feet. She rolled, something encasing her until she sprawled on the floor. Two hands - human - were wrapped around her from behind. She struggled and then gripped each wrist.

Muttering under breath, she summoned several kinds of magical aids as she focused on strength enough to win. Her hands dug in. They wrenched and the wrists were pushed from her so easily they swept too far. She cracked her head back into the person stuck behind her. Her legs coiled and she pushed away to land six feet in front of her assailant.

“Ow! Bloody hell!” came a voice.

She got to her hand and knees and then shot to her feet to turn. “John Constantine. You can’t stop me - not now I have the Hand!” she sneered.

A hand clamped on her shoulder from behind. “I can. And I will.”

She simply gripped the thumb of the hand and yanked. A pained cry came from the owner; she pulled as if swaying a long, heavy rope. Lucifer was hurled sideways. He slammed into the wall and slid down to smack his head and shoulder into the pavement.

“Ok, that’s enough!”

Alina turned. “You? You don’t even _have_ magick - what do you think you can do to me?” she scoffed.

Nugent lifted her handgun and cocked it. It centred on Alina’s upper body. “Just hold still, lady. The police are on their way and you’re coming with us.”

“I don’t think so.” She lifted a hand.

—And then a tree branch crashed into her head. She went flying forward. Nugent stepped quickly out of the way as she was hurled through the gates to the park. She bounced on the gravel path. Her hands went to the ground to get her up. “What the—”

“Let’s just calm down, here,” Tanya said, trembling in fright. She dropped the branch and wiped her hands on her jacket swiftly. “Just until more police arrive.”

John and Lucifer, still getting up from their respective heaps, both blinked. “Nice,” said John.

Nugent hurried up to Alina and produced handcuffs. “Take her advice,” she said. “Alina Harvey-Pendry, I’m arresting you on suspicion of—”

Alina shifted. Her hand under her twitched. Nugent rocked back and fell to the gravel. Alina scrambled to her feet and backed up, watching the four of them. Her hands came out as if for balance. “Now you lot listen to me,” she barked. “You’re too late - I’ve switched power sources and it’s _doubled_ what I had before. I thought _Hell_ had untapped resources, but Heaven? I’m sorry, Luci, but it pisses over Hell.”

Lucifer’s face hardened. “Have a care, Alina. Not with your words, but the power you think you’re using. There’s always a catch.”

John’s eyes went to Lucifer, then back to her. “Uh… Maybe you should think about giving that Hand of God up, love.”

“Why do you think I would listen to you?” she snapped. “I’ve been here for seven hundred years. I’ve seen things you people - and the history books - would love to forget. I’ve seen kings and queens grind the little people under their boots just so they don’t have to walk through mud. I’ve seen them starve, die of disease, of civil wars - because the royals thought their power was more important than them. And yes, I’ve seen heads of holy orders turn a blind eye to the impoverished masses. So _this_ ,” she said, pulling the rock out of her pocket, “is going to change _everything_. Someone has to look out for the little people. Someone has to even the odds. And _someone_ has to give them dignity as they live, as they work to feed themselves and their families.”

John clapped slowly. “That’s a lovely speech, pet,” he said with a sly smile. “Do you think anyone who ever touched that _didn’t_ believe they were acting completely in the interests of cleansing the world?”

“It does have quite the purging effect on the wielder,” Lucifer nodded. “More so than other Hands of God. It’s what it was designed for, you see.”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “You’re done, all of you. _I_ have this now, and _I’ll_ use it as it _should_ be used.”

“I doubt that,” Lucifer said. He stole a step closer. “Do you know what that rock is? Do you know where it came from?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s been touched by God, and He’s left His mark on it - a trace of His power.”

John and Lucifer looked at each other - and then burst into laughter.

Nugent stepped back, grabbing Tanya’s arm and pulling her with her.

“Oh dear,” Lucifer said, wiping an eye. “Do you know why it’s called a Hand of God?”

She turned it around and showed him the reverse edge. “Because His hand was on it.”

“Not quite,” Constantine grinned. “It’s because - and I am really enjoying pissing on your fireworks, here - it’s something that was close to Him, or made by Him and given to one of His angels.”

“What would you know?” she scoffed.

Lucifer buttoned up his suit jacket with a flourish. “He’s right. Joshua’s Horn, Michael’s Sword, Aaron’s Rod - He _fashioned_ those things Himself and handed them out. But that rock that you have right there…” He paused. “From the shine to one side of it, from the weight and _definitely_ from the composition of rock types, I believe that’s from something _much_ closer to Him.” He looked at John side-long. “John - I know you’ve recognised it, but - and this bit staggers me - I believe you’ve been too polite to check.”

John grinned. “Oh I know what it’s from. Why do you think I’ve never touched it?”

“It’s irrelevant,” Alina said. “God himself touched it, and now some of His power is inside it.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Lucifer said. “Don’t you want to know where it’s from?”

“No.” She lifted it. “I’m going to use it to wipe you four from the face of the Earth, and then get on with re-ordering the world into something better.”

“Brick privvy,” John said.

She paused. “What?”

“A brick privvy,” John shrugged. “That’s where it’s from.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” she snapped.

“A men’s washroom, love,” Lucifer put in. “Well, the _original_ men’s washroom.”

She froze for a long moment. Nugent and Tanya shared a look of pure disbelief. Then Alina shook herself. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?” John asked innocently. “I mean, it’d throw anyone, the image of the Almighty in the toilet taking a giant sh—”

“No, it’s not,” she snapped. “You’re first, John Constantine. Sheerly for that mouth on you, and all the times you’ve screwed someone else over just so you can live to screw more people over another day.”

He put his hands up in surrender. Alina turned to point directly at him. Tanya gasped. “No!” she cried. “Don’t you dare!” She leapt at Alina.

Alina turned. She stretched her other hand out toward the smaller woman. Tanya walloped into some kind of invisible wall. She began to fall. Nugent dropped her gun to grab her. She let her down to the grass gently.

Lucifer was already moving. His right hand grabbed for Alina’s neck. She stepped back, swung her free hand around. It swept harmlessly past his face. But then a wave followed. It picked him up and sent him head over heels toward John. He threw himself sideways to avoid the hurtling Devil. He popped up as she was grinning in victory, turning to look at Nugent and Tanya. He launched himself at her.

They collided and went into the grass together. Hand and knees flailed and targeted the other; they rolled as they struggled to get purchase on a limb, a head, a piece of clothing.

John was ejected from the ball of fight. He flew up in the air a clear six feet before plummeting straight into the gravel path on his face.

Alina got up slowly, breathing hard. She brushed herself down with one hand, her other fist safely closed. As Lucifer righted himself and John scrambled to his hands and knees, Nugent got Tanya to her feet and retreated to the tree line.

“Try that again,” Alina said with a cold smile. “I dare you.”

“Maybe I will,” John said. He climbed to his feet. He brought his hands up in surrender - until he opened his left one. “With this.”

“No!” she growled.

John lifted the Hand of God higher. “You dosy bird - did you really think this lump of holy toilet seat was going to give you powers to re-order the world?”

“ _He_ did,” she snapped. “He flooded the world, re-ordered it how He wanted it. Why can’t I?”

“Because you need regular recharges from this,” John said. “Your new-found power will fade and you along with it. You’ll be back to a small-time medieval witch about… ooh, this time tomorrow, if you don’t use it. If you _do_ , well… a few hours, maybe less.”

Lucifer, now on his feet and looking unhappy about the entire evening so far, came forward. “Let’s test just how impervious I am to Father’s powers, shall we?” He reached for her.

She flipped her hands and streams of water gushed from her palms. They slammed into Lucifer with such force he was almost pushed off his feet. Instead he leant into it. The heels of his polished shoes went into the gravel. He was forced to slide backwards.

She grinned. “See? Your Father was always more powerful than you.”

Lucifer grinned against the almost-freezing torrent. “True,” he called over the commotion. “But I didn’t leave because of _power_.” He raised both hands into the water as if to push it away from him. And then he turned the palms into each other. The stream split around him in perfect symmetry - not a drop touched him as the water veered round as if scared to get too close. His palms dropped. The water continued to evade him, only to rejoin into a single stream behind him. He walked toward her as if out for an afternoon stroll. “Funny that you picked water as a weapon. I’ve always been a fan of _fire_ myself.” His right hand went up. He balled the fist and squeezed.

Flames leapt up around her from nowhere. She screamed and lost her concentration; the water stopped. Lucifer turned his head to call over his shoulder. “All of you leave! Now!”

Nugent and Tanya turned and ran for Nugent’s car, still waiting by the kerb outside the gates. John pushed the rock into his pocket. He looked back at the two women. They waved him over frantically. He shook his head and waved them to go.

Nugent came around the bonnet of the car, back toward the park. She folded her arms and stood there, watching him. Tanya swallowed but came to her side. John rolled his eyes and turned back to Lucifer and the flames now completely flowing over the form of Alina.

He put his hand on Lucifer’s taller shoulder. “Mate,” he said calmly. “That’s enough.”

“Not until she’s drained - not only of Father’s power, but her own deal with Hell for a witchcraft boost,” he snapped.

John looked at her, then back at the Devil. “She’s done.”

“No, she really isn’t.” He gritted his teeth, his face showing signs of exertion. “She’s - fighting - me.”

“She can’t be - she’s only human.”

“Well then how is she—”

A fiery blast ricocheted off Alina’s columns of punishment and slammed into Lucifer’s chest. He was thrown over onto his back. The fire stopped.

Alina dropped to the grass. She sobbed and coughed in pain, in anger.

John rushed to Lucifer’s side. He grabbed his jacket lapel and dragged him to sit up. “Mate - you alright?”

“Owwww,” he groaned.

Tanya appeared on his other side, helping him up again by pulling at his arm. Nugent was off to the side, searching the grass for her fallen gun.

Alina wiped at her face, scraped hair from her eyes. She looked up at the four of them. She began to laugh. “The Devil himself, John Constantine, and two humans - and you _still_ can’t stop me!” She climbed to her feet. “Brace yourselves,” she commanded. “This is going to hurt.”

She raised her hands.

 


	11. We've Been Dreaming of this Feeling Since 1988; Mama, Things Have Got to Change - I'm Moving to L.A.

 

 

Alina raised her hands. She muttered to herself, closed her eyes, concentrated on the image in her head. John’s eyes went wide as he realised what was about to happen to the dark clouds starting to encircle her hands.

He blurted words so fast Nugent and Tanya had no idea what he was shouting, apparently at them. His left hand flew up and they were hurled backwards even as he shoved at Lucifer with his right. He landed on top of him.

Alina’s clouds shot toward them. The two women, now out of range, rolled in the grass and gasped in horror.

The black clouds had pummelled into John’s back. Lucifer’s hands went out in despair. John convulsed in pain on top of him. Lucifer gripped his shoulders and wrenched. The human was tossed into the grass by his side. The clouds followed. They wrapped themselves around John and then began to tighten.

Lucifer looked back at Alina. Grinning, sheened with sweat, she was watching John writhe and gasp in agony on the cooling grass. Frost began to form on the brown scrub just inches from his pained convulsions.

Lucifer straightened up. He took a deep breath. He felt the calm of millennia flood through him for a single second. And then he crouched and plunged his hands into the clouds.

They screeched and roiled, protested at his touch - for barely a moment. Then they left John with gleeful abandon, rushing to envelop Lucifer instead. He closed his eyes and concentrated past the pain as the clouds did all they could to sear, to cut, to bite and stab and rip at him.

John flopped to the grass, panting for dear life in utter relief.

Alina laughed. She took a step toward them. Her left hand veered out and she shot a look at Tanya. “You’re next.” She flipped her hand around to produce another set of dark clouds.

A _crack_ of a shot shocked everyone. Alina gasped as her arm flailed in some kind of reaction.

Nugent fired again. The clouds from around Alina’s palms dissipated instantly. She fell to the grass, her right leg a bubbling mass of fresh blood.

John pushed himself round. “Her hands,” he croaked. “Keep them restrained!”

Nugent moved but Tanya was quicker. She skidded toward her in the grass. Her black boot slammed down on Alina’s wrist. Nugent scrambled toward her other one. She dropped to her knee. She holstered the gun as she ground Alina’s wrist into the grass with her other knee.

“She’s secure!” she called.

John heaved himself over to sit up. A gurgle and a cough made him look round to see Lucifer still struggling against clouds. He exploded over to his hands and knees, racing through the brown grass to reach for him.

“Don’t!” Lucifer cried.

John shrank back. “How do we stop it?”

“Oh to be - in - LA!” Lucifer managed through gritted teeth. “You’re - the - bloody mage! Think of - something! Now!”

John turned to look over at Alina. “She’s still controlling it!”

Tanya leant over across the grass, her wide eyes still on Alina’s pained expression of triumph beneath her. Tanya’s fingers connected with her target and she drew it back. “I’d like to say I’m sorry,” she managed. “But I’m really not.” She lifted the branch. She smacked it across Alina’s temple.

The clouds surrounding Lucifer wisped up toward the sky and disappeared. He gasped in relief and fell back into the grass.

John leant over him, one hand on the Devil’s shoulder, the other on the shirt over his chest as if testing for a heartbeat. “You alright, mate?” he panted. “Oi!” He gripped Lucifer’s head out of near-panic.

Lucifer’s eyes opened. He looked up at the human and a sly smile covered his face. “I’ve been in worse positions.”

John drew his hands back quickly. He cleared his throat and turned to look at the three women behind them. Nugent wiped a hand down her face. Tanya, her back to him, dropped the branch and wiped her hand on her t-shirt.

“Is that it?” she asked shakily. “Is it over?”

“I reckon so,” John said. He turned and flumped to sit in the grass. And then he fell backwards and looked up at the night sky. “Bloody hell. What a night.”

“No - it’s not over yet,” Lucifer sighed. He got up and staggered over to the women. “We need to restrain her until she’s incarcerated.”

“I heard that,” Nugent said. She brought out her handcuffs.

Lucifer took them from her and then simply threw them over his shoulder. “John? Got any ribbon?”

“Believe it or not, yes,” he managed. He levered himself up from the grass with a huge effort, but nevertheless did make it across the grass. He delved in his pocket and came out with a length of something that resembled silk, in a deep shade of purple. Between him and Tanya they had Alina’s wrists bound.

“You two are stone-cold crazy,” Nugent said. “That is not going to hold her.”

Tanya searched around the grass and picked up the handcuffs. “We can add these. Just in case.”

John and Lucifer looked at each other. “Can’t hurt,” John shrugged.

Nugent took them from Tanya and clapped them round Alina’s wrists, above the ribbon. She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll find that back-up. They should have been here by now.” She went back to her car, still waiting faithfully by the far kerb.

Tanya looked at John and Lucifer. “So… I don’t think I can ever tell anyone what went down tonight, can I?”

“If you like,” John smiled. “They’ll put you in a looney bin, but it’s up to you.” He and Lucifer shared a glance. “Anyway,” he said, turning again to Tanya, “I think we’re done here.”

“Finally,” Lucifer sighed. He put a hand on John’s shoulder nearest him, the other going to his ribs as if bruised. “Let’s be off, shall we?”

Tanya looked over to Nugent. “Yeah… we’ll have police and medics here soon. Are you two ok?”

“We’ll walk it off,” John said. He peered down at Alina. “We need to get her out of this park.”

“Yeah, the medics will take her.”

“Uh… not that kind of incarcerated,” John said. He felt Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder tighten slightly. “We need a favour, Tanya.”

“What?” she asked, her face dark.

“We uh… we need to take her off your hands. And by ‘your’ I mean ‘the police’,” he said.

“You are cracked - she’s being arrested and the law will take its course.”

“Actually, no, it won’t,” Lucifer said. “There’s a higher power here, darling, and it’s me. I’m taking her off your hands, as John put it, to make sure she’s incarcerated and punished for her behaviour. Don’t worry, it’ll be very humane.”

Tanya blinked. “Yes, but—”

“Love, please,” John said. “You’ve seen how dangerous she is. You’ve seen what she’s capable of - she can’t stay here.”

“In the park? I agree,” she said, confusion the strongest of her emotions.

“Not the park - _here_ ,” Lucifer said. “Up here. You know where she belongs. And I can get her there.”

“Who _are_ you?”

Lucifer’s eyes flashed red for barely a second. “Someone who can send her where she can’t do any harm.”

Tanya, her eyes wide, barely nodded.

Nugent began to cross the grass toward them. “Well they’re minutes away,” she called.

Tanya looked back at Lucifer, then John. “Then… do what I say and you’ll get her.”

“Thanks, pet,” John nodded.

She stepped up to him and kissed him. He let her for a long moment, before leaning into it. Lucifer looked from her to him and back again. Then he rolled his eyes and looked up at the night sky.

Finally she eased him back and patted his shirt. “That’s to say thank you for saving me from those clouds - and for what we could have. If you - you know - you wanted to stick around.”

“I don’t think I should,” John said quietly. Lucifer patted his shoulder, then let go. He hobbled off and John watched him go. He turned apologetic eyes on Tanya. “Sorry, love.”

“No, that’s ok,” she said with a smile. “At least it was a nice, clean answer.”

“That’s a first, I think.”

She grinned. “Follow my lead,” she said with a wink.

“You’re all… all going on… my list,” Alina hissed from the grass.

“Oh give it a rest,” John tutted.

 

ooOoo

 

Nugent marched into the station, a face like thunder making people part in front of her and find something to do lest she find it for them.

Tanya trailed behind her with a sheepish look on her face. “How was I supposed to know it was the other hospital?” she asked. “I didn’t know which they were taking her to.”

“And now she’s not at either,” Nugent snapped. “And no sign of John or Lucifer - what are we to make of _that_ , Tanya?”

“Um… they needed rest after what went down tonight?” she hazarded.

Nugent stopped and rounded on her. Tanya halted in fright as Nugent glared at her. “We have one high-profile case here, and those two have stolen our perp and absconded - possibly the state - with her. You know what this looks like, don’t you? Like they’re accessories. And as _we_ helped them tonight, that makes _us_ accessories. To _murder_. Do you get me?”

“Yes,” she muttered. Nugent went to stalk away. “ _Or_ ,” Tanya said suddenly.

Nugent whipped back and fixed her with a stare. “Or what?”

“Or… we went there to apprehend her and those two were accessories. We tried to stop them too but there were three of them and two of us - and they got away.” She felt Nugent’s glare boring into her very soul. “Or… something,” she added lamely.

Nugent’s head tilted. She looked at the floor. Then back at Tanya. “Come with me,” she snapped. “You and I are about to write a report, and learn it very well, so that when all this comes to a tribunal we have identical stories.”

“Yes, Detective,” Tanya said with a smile. She followed as Nugent took off down the corridor.

 

ooOoo

 

John unlocked the door to the mill house and turned back to Lucifer behind him. Between them they hefted an unconscious Alina through the door and along the top landing. The door, disgusted at the way they forgot about it as soon as they were through, closed itself behind them with a pointed _bang_.

They paused, looked back at it, and then shrugged before carrying her down the winding metal staircase to the open room. They left her a few feet from the bottom, John going straight to the kitchen sink and the cupboard below it. He opened it and withdrew a bottle, unscrewing it and swigging straight from the neck.

“Anything _not_ made with holy water?” Lucifer asked wearily.

John turned. “Uh… No. Sorry.”

“Right.” He hobbled over, one hand still to his ribs, to find a glass on the drainer and help himself to tap water.

John took another giant swig of gin before setting the bottle down with a wince. “Well that was bloody awful,” he said with a fake cheer.

Lucifer finished the glass of water and set it down. “Agreed.” He wiped his face over. “Right. You summon Rubicante for me and we’ll get rid of our unwanted house guest.”

“You want me to _summon_ Rubicante? Can’t you just call her or something?”

“No. I’m kind of… cut off,” Lucifer managed. John’s mouth opened. “Look,” he said quickly, “it’s a long story. Just get her up here and she can take Alina _and_ the Hand of God with her.”

John put his hand in his pocket and withdrew the shiny lump. He raised it between them to admire the shine. “I still can’t believe this came from His personal toilet.”

Lucifer shrugged. “When He made man in His image, He really went for the small details.”

“I thought that was your thing.”

Lucifer smiled an easy, knowing relaxation of good humour that abruptly warmed John all over. The Devil took the rock from his hand and inspected it before shoving it in his own pocket. “You know _me_ too well, John.”

“Rubicante, then?” he asked.

“Rubicante, please.”

“Right then.” He took the bottle with him as he went back to the mill stone.

 

ooOoo

 

She looked up, a frown on what passed for her approximation of a face. “Oh what now?” she heaved. She raised her clawed hands and saw them begin to change to steam.

The next second she was opening her eyes to an old, dusty room. Bookshelves to her right, a strange set of sofas and a mirror over a fireplace to her left, she looked down at her claws. They were now manicured nails painted a very dark red, her hooves and scaled body replaced by what appeared to be a human woman in scruffy jeans and some kind of rock t-shirt.

She looked up - and sensed a familiar presence. “Lucifer?” she dared.

“Rubi, darling - hello,” he said, a smile on his face three miles wide.

“What the Hell are you doing up here still?” she asked, surprised. “You look… pretty. —Pretty good. Considering.”

“It’s quite fun up here,” he said, crossing the room to her. “You look well.”

“Clerical keeps you young,” she winked. “So what gives? I was summoned and everything. Why didn’t you just ring the bell like every other manager?”

He chuckled. “My friend John here needs a woman taken Down There. I’d like her in solitary, darling. I think a number eight setting should do it.”

“Understood,” she nodded. “Is this just a millennia or the full Duration?”

“Oh, ah…” He looked at John. The human opened his mouth. “Duration,” they said together. Lucifer winked at him, then looked back at the demon. “Yes, for the Duration, I think.”

“Got it.” She looked at John. “Do I know you?”

“Nope,” he said immediately.

Lucifer cleared his throat. “She’s bound right now but she’s probably going to try to get free and cause all kinds of bother. Would you mind taking her now?”

“Where is she?” she asked.

Lucifer stepped back and waved a hand to his left. “All yours.”

“Hmm,” she said, going over and crouching to study her bonds. “Not bad, restraint-wise - is this your handiwork, My Lord?”

“John here is really good at magical restraints,” he said casually. “Now be a good demon and run along, will you? Oh, and take this with you,” he added, fishing in his pocket. He pulled out the Hand of God. “Chuck it in the furnace, for us. Make sure it’s obliterated properly.”

“Is this what I think it is?” she asked, taking it from him and turning it over carefully.

“I think so.”

“Ew,” she said, her face one of extreme disgust. “Why the Hell humans insist on keeping bits of shit-houses of the Holy I will never know.”

“You’ve got me there,” Lucifer said. He stepped aside and Rubicante pushed the stone in her jeans pocket before sliding two hands under the insensate form of Alina Harvey-Pendry.

“Wow - the guilt on this one is heavy,” she said. She straightened up as if the human weighed nothing. “I can see why you want her in there for the Duration.”

“Setting eight, don’t forget,” he said politely.

“Of course, My Lord.” She turned and crossed back to her spot.

“Oh - one more thing,” Lucifer added. She paused and looked at him. “Make sure no-one else is stealing Hell’s cable, will you? This one seemed to have a direct line for a few centuries.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. “I’ll see to it.”

“Good,” he nodded.

“You - John, is it?” she said.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“You summoned me?”

“I did.”

“Then give me leave to return home and I’ll be off.”

John nodded. “Rubicante, demon summoned for my bidding, I release you.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at the carpet. “Ok Gerald - crank her open,” she called. A massive black circle opened up underneath her, flames licking around the edges as she looked back at Lucifer and John, while she apparently just levitated over the gaping hole. “Until next time, My Lord,” she nodded. Lucifer waved cheerfully. She looked at John. “You, human,” she said.

“Yes, love?”

“Call me.”

“Uh… right.”

She winked, then began to sink as if on an invisible cherry-picker. They watched her descend until the hole closed over her head with an other-worldly _snap_.

Lucifer turned to John. “Well there we go - all done. Alina in Hell, the Hand of God about to be incinerated. What else did we have to do?”

“Sleep,” John said, scrubbing his hand over his face in weary relief.

“Quite,” Lucifer said softly. His eyes followed John as the human picked up his bottle of gin and walked around the mill stone.

John went to the couch across from the mirror and plonked himself down. Unscrewing the lid, he took a swig before looking over at Lucifer. “What are your plans now?”

“I need to do one more thing, and then I believe it’s time I went back to LA,” he said quietly.

“Bored of Atlanta already? It’s not the most happening place, I’ll grant you,” John grinned.

Lucifer chuckled as he walked around to the coffee table in front of John’s seat. He sat on the wooden surface slowly, watching the human take another drink. “This place has been absolutely fantastic,” he said frankly. “However, I did kind of run from a few things that, now I think about it, I probably shouldn’t. I mean… I was protecting myself, I know that now.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” John asked. He screwed the lid back on the gin and reached forward, depositing it on the floor by his left foot.

“Well I’ve seen how humans do it, and… and I think I appreciate why it may be necessary. In certain scenarios.”

“You can just say it,” John smiled.

“What?”

“You can say ‘bloody hell John, all you do is hide from the world in your little hovel of magic and demons, avoiding all real connection with people because you’re damaged’.” He chuckled, then scrubbed his hand through his hair. “It’s true, but it’s what works.”

“I wasn’t going to say that, John,” he said gently. “I was going to say, if you get tired of this life, then you could do worse than give it all up and find someone who understands you but still wants you to stick around.”

John sniffed. “Have you?”

“What?”

“Well you gave up Hell, right? For what? To see what it might be like to find someone who understands you but still wants you to stick around?”

Lucifer laced his fingers, tilting his head as he thought. “That wasn’t my goal. But… I guess over time, things have happened and… Perhaps.” He looked back at John. “Perhaps.”

“Well whoever they are, good luck to them,” he said. “I mean, _I_ know you’re not a complete wanker. Others might not, but I do.”

Lucifer grinned. “Ooh, high praise indeed from the man who shags succubi in graveyards.”

John put two fingers to his temple, then flicked them out at him in a mock-salute.

Lucifer looked at his feet. “Thank you, John.”

“What for?”

“For trying to shield me from those clouds in the park. It was stupid, but thanks.”

“Hey, that’s me all over.”

“Yes, I rather think it is.” He stood slowly. “I also think you need some rest.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he gruffed.

Lucifer smiled ruefully. “Perhaps.” He got up and let his hands slide into his pockets. “Thanks for everything, John.” He looked around the front room. “Find some company. Even if it’s just a one night stand. At least the place will have two voices in it. For a little while.”

John reached forward and picked up the bottle of gin. He unscrewed the cap and lifted it. “I have this. I’ll be fine.”

Lucifer took it from him and put the lid back on. He went around his couch and took the bottle to the far kitchen, putting it back in the cupboard under the sink. “You know,” he called over, “you may need _my_ help someday. You’re always more than welcome to rock up to Lux and demand an audience. I think I could drop everything to make time for you.” He turned to walk back to the couch. “I don’t say that to many people. Well, _any_ people, actually.” He stopped by the end, looking down to find that John had slipped both into the corner of the couch and a deep sleep.

He smiled for a moment, then looked at his watch. He gazed at the human for a long moment. Then he shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. He turned for the metal stairs. “One quick drink at Flo’s before the flight back,” he said to himself. “One or two Meshuggeners before take-off.” He put his hand on the railing. He paused.

He looked back at John’s head, just about visible over the back of the sofa. His feet turned him and before he knew it he had stopped in front of John’s sleeping form. He turned and went to another couch, picking up a blanket that had been dumped on its arm, seemingly a long time ago. He brought it back and opened it out, laying it over the human. He crouched to drape it over his shoulder, and without his command his jaw jutted out and gently pushed a kiss into the top of John’s head.

He got up and shook his head sadly. And then he turned for the staircase, and all that awaited him in LA.

 

 

**FIN**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow - thanks to everyone who took the time to read this, or to leave a comments, or press a little 'kudos' button. I'm still struggling to find an agent for my original work, and your traffic really keeps me going, I'm not going to lie.
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't replied to each comment/review that you've left - I feel a bit weird sending out personalised thanks-yous on a public platform (anyone else? Or is it just me? Oh, ok then).
> 
> THANK YOU - YOU READING READERS WHO READ. You are all gold dust and you make me very, very happy. And that doesn't happen a lot.


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